


Exponential

by AllumaNoir



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M, I get by with a little help from my (Discord) friends, Love Triangle debate but not in the way that you're thinking, More info/warnings first chapter, Some scenes are explicit but there's so much plot to drown it out that I'm keeping the rating as is, Supracanon timeline - that's canon timeline and beyond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 172,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllumaNoir/pseuds/AllumaNoir
Summary: "No story is not worth telling." - Angeal Hewley....... I wanted to figure out the Love Triangle Debate for myself and ended up writing this monstrosity. Cloti, Zerith, more info first chapter. LATEST: Gold Saucer date night. Guess who?
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 57
Kudos: 64





	1. Instruction Booklet

#  _REVISED 10-1-_ _εуλ_ _2020_

So, 100K in, I decided my warnings needed a retcon. Not much point in being cryptic at this point.

This is a Love Triangle Debate story, but like the summary says, not in the way that you might think. It all started when I was new to the fandom, and learned about the LTD, and my first response was, “This is actually a THING???” SO I sort of wanted to figure it out for myself… and ended up writing a few hundred thousand words.

I went ahead and added the pairing tags. For clarification: **there is no Clerith action.** So why label it Love Triangle Debate, then? Well, the secret is in the plot twists, which is simply a RAFO. **Things may not always be as they seem.** Sometimes I deliberately lead you the wrong way. The point is to get you to work with the story, think about it a little bit. There’s really a little something in every chapter where you could maybe have a new feeling, or go, “Oh! I didn’t think of that before!” I designed it that way. If you get a fresh perspective out of this, then I’ve done my job right.

**This is NOT a novelization.** Though it follows canon timeline and events, it actually goes several years AFTER ACC/DOC, and lot of the plot twists don’t really come into fruition until then.

**There is sex in this story.** There is a LOT of sex in this story. And not necessarily who you’d expect, either. **However, for those uncomfortable with NSFW content:** I’ve been told by readers that the story is completely understandable even if skimming through the explicit content. So while I consider the presence of those scenes integral, if you don’t particularly care to read the exact _details,_ feel free to move along. As well, I’m going to go ahead and give warnings for mild violence, language, canon character death, a couple thoughts (but no acts!!!!!!) of non-con, and potato-rific levels of angst.

If you are only looking for jerk-off material, you are not in the right place.

This is a story about love.

So why should you commit to reading this, particularly after I tell you it’s going to be roughly a quarter million words long? Well, for one thing, because it’s DONE. Not every last word, but close enough that I can guarantee completion. The update schedule is indeterminate, but will be fairly rapid. Chapters go up when I feel they’re DONE.

This story is told in omniscient POV, which I normally don’t approve of, because it feels like cheating. But I realized there was no other way to write this without endless POV switches. Author’s notes will be placed at the end to avoid clutter.

I don’t believe in begging for reviews. Review if you feel so inclined. Or don’t. If you just want to enjoy the story, that’s fine too. I’m going to post this thing even if NO ONE reviews. In my world, writing is for fun, reviews are for social.

The rest of my analysis will be at the end.

_Drumroll please…_


	2. 1986-1995

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating the first chapter to DenebolaLeo, writer on this site, who actually took the time to read this chapter in its early nascent stages.

His earliest memory was her.

She lived in the house right next door. That house was bigger. Some people said it was better. Cloud didn’t think so. He liked the house he had, just him and his mom.

She had lots of friends. Cloud had few. He had only ever remembered he and his mother. Unlike everyone else in the village, he had no father.

He’d had a dad once too, but when he asked his mom, she said didn’t matter.

“He’s joined the Lifestream,” his mom told him.

“What does that mean?” Cloud demanded; but Claudia only smiled sadly.

Cloud didn’t know what to think. How come a dad didn’t matter? But it was okay, he guessed. He loved his mom.

And then there was her...

She was the little brown-haired girl. Everyone knew that, everyone knew her, and her family too. His mom said her dad was the mayor. When Cloud asked what that was, she said it was someone important to the town.

Cloud was confused? _Wasn’t everyone important to the town?_ He said so, and his mom said, “In their own way, yes.” So she must be important to the town too.

He saw her every day as he toddled past. She didn’t talk to him, but every time she saw him, she would smile. It made him want to smile back.

One day, he saw her, alone, close by his house. He wanted to run back inside and hide before she saw him, by himself as always; but today, for some reason, he decided to be brave.

He walked over. She turned her head and smiled but she hung her head down shyly. _Why is she shy?_ Cloud wondered. _She’s so popular. I’m the loser._

“Hi,” he began, unsure. “I’m Cloud. Uh, I live next door to you.”

“I know,” she said. “But you never come talk to me.”

Cloud didn’t know what to say to that. He tried to remember good manners. “Uh… I’m sorry, I guess?”

“I was just teasing,” she told him, and this time she looked him right in the eyes.

“Did you see the shooting start last night?” she suddenly asked.

Her eyes lit up when she said it. He had seen the shooting star, but he thought he liked her eyes better. Red… only kind of not. Brownish, goldish, glow-y. They were kind of like stars, too, the way they always shined when she was happy.

And she usually was happy. He liked to see her that way.

“Did you make a wish on it?” she asked.

“I couldn’t think of one,” he admitted.

“Maybe a wish for someone important?” she asked. “Like your dad?”

_I should have made a wish for you,_ he thought. _To make sure you always smile._ _Stupid_. “I don’t have a dad,” he said.

“You do,” she told him. “He’s just in the Lifestream.”

“How did you know that?” he asked. He was worried she wouldn’t like him without a dad.

She stopped for a minute. “I heard your mom say so,” she admitted. “I, uh, was walking near your window…” She stretched out her hand a tiny bit, like she wanted to touch him. “It’s okay, you know. Everyone had a dad once. It’s not bad just because you don’t have him with you anymore.”

“Oh,” was all Cloud could say. He felt better… a little. _She doesn’t seem to mind…_ “What are you doing right now?” he suddenly burst out. _Why was she alone_ , was what he meant. Why didn’t she have anything better to do than talk to him.

“My friends all went into the hills for the day. My dad said I’m not allowed to go, that only boys can go up there.” She stamped her foot impatiently. “It’s so silly. One day , I’m going to be as brave as those boys, and I’ll go wherever I want.”

Cloud thought it was silly too, but for now… “I guess… my mom told me that boys are supposed to take care of girls. That’s what good guys do,” he finished lamely.

She looked cross. “Not only. My mom takes care of my dad all the time.” Cloud figured that was probably true. “But still, why didn’t you go?”

“No one invited me.” He felt like such a dork saying it.

“Well, I guess, there’s two of us stuck here,” she pouted. Then she looked right at him, and she smiled again. Her eyes danced and laughed. “So, I guess you’re supposed to take care of me, right? Wanna play?”

“Sure!” Cloud replied happily.

“My name is Tifa,” the girl told him, grabbing his left hand in her right. “Let’s go!”

And from then on he was in love.

*******

He didn’t see her every day, but from then on they played together often – just the two of them. Cloud asked Tifa once why the other boys didn’t like him, but she just shook her head and didn’t tell him anything.

Tifa didn’t want to tell him. The other boys thought he was small, and weak. He WAS tiny, the shortest boy in the village, but she thought it was cute. And why did it matter, anyway? He was nice.

Cloud wished he could see her all the time. They were almost like best friends already, right? He didn’t tell her, but sometimes, he would go up to her house and spy on her. He knew it was bad, but he couldn’t help it. Her room was on the second floor, but there was a tree just tall enough that he could see right in, and just bushy enough that no one could really see him.

She played the piano a lot. There was one piece she played that he really liked. It was kind of slow and sweet. It made him feel at home, even if he was just looking in her window from a tree. He wanted to see what it was like inside her home.

He wished she would invite him in.

One day, she wasn’t playing her piano. A couple of her friends were in the room, but he didn’t see her at first. Then he looked down a little, and there she was.

She was sitting next to her bed. She was crying.

She wasn’t supposed to cry. He wanted to make sure she was smiling all the time, like she was supposed to be. Cloud wanted to go to her, run inside her house, hug her and tell her to stop crying, that everything would be okay. _But WHY was she crying?_ he wondered. He didn’t know. What if it was something he couldn’t make okay?

Instead, he ran home and asked his mother.

“Sit down, Cloud,” she told him, patting her bed next to her. Cloud did as he was told. “I have something to tell you.” She paused. “I don’t know the best way to tell you this, but… remember how we talked about your dad going back to the Lifestream?” Cloud nodded. “Well, Tifa’s mother… she went back to the Lifestream too.”

Cloud was suddenly afraid. “Are you going back to the lifestream, too?”

Claudia laughed. “No, Cloud, I’m not going anywhere. Not for a long time.” There were so many memories she couldn’t share with Cloud yet. All her history before he was born… it hardly mattered to her, anymore. A lifetime of traveling, jumping from place to place – Junon, Banora, Wutai – choosing finally to return to her ancestral home with a child inside her belly and nothing else but hopes for what was to come. From the time Cloud was born, nothing else mattered. He was her world now, and Claudia had no desire to go anywhere else.

Later that evening, Cloud ran to his mother while she was preparing supper. “I thought of something, Mom!” he announced proudly.

Claudia stopped stirring for a moment. “Oh?” she asked.

“I have a really good idea!” Cloud announced proudly. “If Tifa doesn’t have a mom anymore, why don’t you marry her dad? Then she would have a mom, and I would have a dad! It’s perfect!” he yelled. _And I would see Tifa every day,_ he thought to himself. _I wouldn’t have to worry about friends. My best friend would always be with me._

Claudia laughed, and ruffled his hair. “It’s a good idea, Cloud,” she said, “but it’s not so simple. You have to like each other.”

“But you DO like each other,” Cloud replied, confused. “I mean, I see you talking to him in the square all the time.” That was usually when he was looking around to see if Tifa was with her dad.

“I mean, really, really like. You have to love someone,” she told her son. “I mean, as much as I love you.”

“But…” Cloud didn’t understand. He really, really liked Tifa. Did that mean he loved her, as much as his mom? “Couldn’t you try to really, really like Tifa’s dad?”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Claudia said. “I wish it did. But Brian Lockhart and I are just friends. You’ll know when you’re older.” She turned back to her cooking; it was just at that perfect point, rich and full of flavor, a minute before it started to burn. “In your life, I hope you’ll be able to love someone that much. If you’re lucky maybe you’ll experience it more than once. And then if you have kids, too… at least one…” She smiled, but she seemed sad now. “Then you’ll really know what love is.”

*******

Tifa sniffled in the night air. She was still crying, a little, but somehow crying outside seemed a little better than crying inside. She didn’t know why that should be. Maybe she’d just done too much of the other today.

Her friends had all gone home. Her dad, had been up for a little bit, but then he kept drinking that weird stuff he liked – Tifa tried a sip once, it tasted awful and it hurt to drink, why did he even like it? – but it made him go to sleep, snoring, leaving Tifa alone with her thoughts.

She didn’t want to be alone.

She heard voices from next door, and looking over the fence, she could see inside. Cloud and his mom were having dinner. _His mom._ He never had a dad, but now she didn’t have a mom anymore – wasn’t that worse?

She thought about knocking on the door, and she even went all the way up the path, but just before she was going to, she got scared. What if they didn’t want her there? After all, Cloud never came to HER house. Why didn’t he? He was her friend. All he had to do was knock on her door, but… he never did.

Instead, she just stood there, listening.

“…the reactor,” Cloud’s mom was saying. “All that Mako energy in the mountain…”

“Why is there all that energy in the mountain?” Cloud demanded.

His mom chuckled. “No one really knows, dear,” she replied. “But mako comes from the Lifestream, and they say the Lifestream is made up of souls…”

“There are dead people in the mountain?!?” Cloud exclaimed, afraid.

“Not really DEAD people,” Claudia told him. “It’s… um… I guess I don’t really know how to describe this. I’ll try another way. Let me tell you a story.”

That was good. Cloud loved stories.

“Once upon a time…” Claudia stopped. “No, that’s a stupid beginning. Not for something that happens naturally, all the time.”

Cloud thought. “Once upon all the time?” he suggested.

“Something like that,” Claudia laughed. “Anyway. Children are born from the Lifestream, and then they grow up, and then they have more children, and then they go back to the Lifestream again. The Lifestream… I guess you could call it spirit energy.”

“So we’re all made out of spirit energy?” Cloud looked at his fork. “I thought you told me once we were all made out of food and that’s why I had to sit down for dinner.”

“That, too,” Claudia told her son. She reached to ruffle his hair, just as golden but even messier than her own. “But I’m talking about much later. You know… like after DESSERT, even.” Cloud’s eyes grew wide.

“The spirits have to go back to the planet. This mountain is part of the Planet. Some say it’s one of the closer parts of the planet – that’s the whole reason ShinRa put the reactor here in the first place. All the mako in the mountain – you can even find entire fountains of it. Maybe someday you’ll even get to see one.”

Cloud seemed enraptured. Tifa, still hiding outside, hoped one day she might see one, too.

“So those souls… it’s not that they exactly join with the mountain, it’s not a graveyard - it’s the other way around. The mountain is just proof that those people lived.” Claudia waved a spoon upwards for emphasis. “The way those souls travel… they probably go to the mountain, and probably over. You see, we all have to go beyond the mountain sometime. And that’s how we find what we are looking for.”

“But we’re dead on the other side?” Cloud asked.

“It’s not about the other side of the mountain,” his mom said. “Is about the getting there. And we shouldn’t ever do it alone.”

Tifa didn’t hear the last part. She was already walking away, thinking. An idea was beginning to form. She wasn’t supposed to be going up to the mountain, but.. .She wouldn’t be able to tell anyone.

Supposed to or not, it was already getting dark. Too late to do anything tonight. She’d need a good night’s rest anyway…

*******

Cloud thought his mom said she and Tifa’s dad were friends. But it didn’t seem like a friend when Brian Lockhart came to their door early the next day.

His mom told him to stay inside, but Cloud could stick his head out the window and hear them yelling.

“It’s all your fault!” Tifa’s dad was screaming at Cloud’s mom. “You city girls… all your crazy ideas. Talking about going back to the lifestream.. you made my daughter think she could find her mom again!”

“It’s true,” Claudia replied primly. “The Lifestream, anyway. If Tifa got the wrong idea about it, then perhaps you didn’t teach your daughter properly.”

“Well, somehow she got the idea to go up to the reactor all by herself!”

Cloud didn’t listen to the rest of the argument anymore. _Tifa went up to the reactor. She wasn’t supposed to go there. She said she wanted to be able to go anywhere, but… what if she’s in danger? Mom always told me it was important to keep girls safe,_ he remembered. _What if she’s in danger?_

_I’ll go help her! I can do it! Then she’ll be my friend forever…_

He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, up his secret paths that he’d had time to find. Sometimes it was helpful to be small; sometimes it was helpful to be alone.

Near the mountain, he heard voices. He recognized them. All the boys that Cloud hated, that were always hanging around with Tifa and wouldn’t let him near…

“- already ran down and told her dad,” one said.

“He’s going to be so angry.”

“That’s why we’ve got to go get her, bring her back!”

_She doesn’t want to go back,_ thought Cloud. _If you’re her friends, you should help her, not hold her back…_

_“-gonna follow her?”_

_“-nah-“_

_“scared?”_

_“No, you’re scared-“_

Cloud ignored them and kept on going.

He found her. Up the mountain, before the bridge. She stood there, looking so small and alone. Cloud wanted to run to her…

“Tifa!” he called. She turned…

“What are you doing?” he yelled, jogging up to her. “You’re not supposed to cross the mountain alone!”

Up close, he could see dried tears on her cheeks. “I wanna see my mom,” she said. “”I have to keep going…”

“Then I’ll go with you,” he told her. “Keep going. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Thank you, Cloud,” she sniffled. She stepped out onto the bridge, and Cloud, true to his word, followed her across…

The bridge wobbled, the high winds of Mount Nibel shaking the beams. Cloud clung to the handropes nervously; he was scared, but he wouldn’t be like those other boys. He wouldn’t leave her behind.

She was almost to the other side… he felt it before he even saw it. Creaks, underneath his feet… He grabbed desperately for a handhold, catching a clinging beam before his feet came out beneath him, but his thoughts were all on Tifa... and suddenly she was GONE, beams broken in two beneath her…

He reacted without thinking, his hand grasping, catching her wrist. She looked up at him, terror in her eyes…

_Tifa… gotta save her!_

He was so weak. Too weak. He tried desperately to hold on, but his hand was slipping, slipping…

…and then they fell… but he never let go of her hand…


	3. 1987-1992

The lights, the sky.

They might have been beautiful, but…

“We live in luxurious captivity,” her mother once told her. They were high in the building, floor sixty-something – Aerith could never remember, because except for going back and forth to the lab, she never was let out. It was a large, well furnished apartment, with a view of Midgar – but every time she looked outside, she could remember the same skies viewed from the lab, and that awful feeling that came in the pit of her stomach whenever she saw those skies, waiting for them to bring her mother back.

They never hurt her, but they were hurting her mom. Not all the time. Her mom tried to tell her they didn’t, but she saw her mother’s face when they came to “borrow” her for a little while – and she heard her mother crying later those nights.

Aerith’s room was big, but her mother’s was bigger. Her mother told her she had been born in a very small house, but she wished they were back there.

“Why?” Aerith demanded.

“Because we were together,” Ifalna replied.

By “together” Aerith knew that meant “with your father”, but she knew it was smart not to ask more. She had heard some of the scientists talking about “the child’s father” and sometimes the name “Gast”. _So that must be my father,_ she realized, and asked her mother about it.

Ifalna was sad. “It’s best for them to know as little as possible,” she told Aerith. “I’ve been trying to keep it that way.”

But she told Aerith stories. Stories of the magical Promised Land, far away, and every time Ifalna told the story, the Promised Land looked different. That confused Aerith.

“So where is it really?” Aerith asked.

Ifalna pulled her daughter into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head gently. “That’s the thing,” she told her daughter. “No one knows for sure. All we know is, that it is a land of supreme joy and happiness. Someday, we all have to find our own Promised Land. One day, I want you to leave Midgar… and find your own.”

Aerith was worried. “Leave Midgar? Does that mean I would have to leave you, too?” She was worried about being without her mother, but she was also worried about her mother being here, alone, with those men and women who hurt her.

“We’ll leave before then, I promise,” Ifalna replied. “I’m most scared of what might happen once you become a woman…” _Forced breeding_ had only been whispered in the corridors; it was something Ifalna didn’t truly worry she might have to face. It was something simpler, more fundamental – Aerith was so far left alone because she appeared to have so little power, and that was all that mattered to ShinRa. What might they do to her daughter once she grew up and her power truly began to manifest?

Truly, she didn’t know what ShinRa might want to do. She’d seen Sephiroth in the corridors, and thought of what Gast had told her, the experiments that had left him disillusioned and running to the farthest poles of Gaia - where he met a lonely woman, the last of her race, pleased to find happiness by chance in a place so remote… until the day ShinRa came to take that from her, along with their rogue scientist’s life.

Sephiroth… what kind of woman could allow her child to be experimented on that way? What kind of father… then again, if the father was truly Hojo as Gast had explained, then she suspected there was no end to what the madman would do, even to his own flash and blood.

She couldn’t imagine he would have many qualms with Aerith.

Would Hojo go as far as trying to father a child on she herself…? Ifalna shivered with the very thought of his creepy fingers on her... she drove the memory away with remembrance of her beloved Gast’s touch instead. And the child he had given her, all that was left of him. “Someday, Aerith, you will leave these walls, and someday you will leave Midgar. I pray to the Planet you will find happiness somewhere. Have children of your own.”

Aerith only looked up at her. “A child? Me? But how?”

“Hopefully, with someone you love. Like I loved your father.” Aerith had been so small when they were taken, that even the idea that she had a father was a bare abstraction to her. “Never forget that, Aerith – you were a child of true love. And you are my daughter, always. Nothing would ever change that.” _Not even the distance of death truly separates love. Gast, I miss you so much…_

She couldn’t bear to tell Aerith the truth - that her only hope was to get her daughter as far away from here as possible. They had afflicted her with mako dependency – she knew she couldn’t make it far. Once away from the confines of the lab, she would steadily weaken, and then –

But she knew it wouldn’t stop her taking her chances when the time came.

*******

They gave her all sorts of toys, but the only ones she asked for, were the ones they couldn’t bring her. She asked for flowers. She had seen them in one of her books. But the ones they brought her… they weren’t alive. They were some manufactured things.

“I want alive ones,” she insisted, stamping her foot.

“Flowers can’t grow in Midgar,” she was told.

When she got older, she was allowed to explore a little more. Some of the other floors. She saw more pretend flowers, pretend trees, and the employees relaxed under them, pretending they were the real thing.

Mostly, she liked to talk. To everyone, the secretaries, the mechanics, even the janitors. She went all the way down to the 60th floor, but she could never get below that.

“It’s so ordinary employees can’t come up,” she was told.

“But I can’t go down either,” she objected.

Even the soldiers, she talked to. Some were mean, but others were nice. One of them even brought her a special present.

“It’s flower seeds,” he told her.

“So, I can grow flowers?” she asked him.

“No, not up here. You’ll have to wait until you find a better place.”

She never knew his name; she never knew what happened to him. All the soldiers went off on missions and things, eventually. But she never forgot him, and she always kept her flower seeds.

The Turks were the scariest. Some of them were even named after weapons. How was she supposed to call someone “Knife” or “Gun”? But even some of those talked to her.

One of them started showing up more and more. He was one of the ones with a real name. His name was Tseng.


	4. 1995-0000

“Please don’t tell Mr. Lockhart, Mom!”

Tears were running down Cloud’s face. She had just finished wiping down his scraped knees, thankful his injuries were nothing worse, when Brian had come over like a thunderstorm. If she had thought he had been angry this morning… it was nothing compared to this.

He had been screaming, cursing her, even launching into obscenities, and other villagers had stopped to stare. The only thing that finally calmed him down was the realization that he was making an ass of himself in public.

Somehow, she was able to discern the story, and her heart fell. _Tifa in a coma…_ At least, she could understand Brian’s anger, having lost his wife only days before…

But the rest, she couldn’t tolerate.

She informed Brian quite forcefully that she didn’t believe for a _minute_ that Cloud pushed Tifa down, and she didn’t give a damn what the other boys had said. She would get the story out of Cloud later, but for now –

“Get the hell off my porch,” she finished. Brian, stunned, stared for a moment, then turned with a huff.

Cloud – her sweet, gentle boy – would never willingly hurt anyone. Especially not Tifa. Her son rarely smiled, but Claudia had not been blind to the way his face lit up whenever he saw the girl next door. _It’s not that he doesn’t care – he just needs something to care about._ She wished there were more opportunities for his gentle soul to shine, but Nibelheim was small and isolated, and nothing much ever changed.

One day, she knew in her heart, he would have to leave. She could only do so much teaching him how to be a man.

But for now... she had other concerns. She tried to explain to him what had happened, as gently as possible, telling him Tifa was really badly hurt – the chance she might not recover, was more than she could bear to tell Cloud at this point, more than she could put on his little head - but he just kept crying that it was _his fault, all his fault_ …

“Cloud,” she asked softly, “how is it your fault? Tell me what happened. Don’t be afraid, just tell me the truth.”

Cloud barely managed to squeeze out words between his sniffles. “I… followed… her… there… no one else... did…”

“And then what?” she prodded carefully.

“The bridge… broke… she... grabbed…on… to… me…!” Cloud let out a wail, and Claudia’s heart went out. “And… I… couldn’t hold on…”

He buried his head in his mother’s shoulder, sobbing. “I wasn’t strong enough! So she fell…”

Claudia was beginning to understand. How far her son’s heart and sense of responsibility extended… but she couldn’t let him blame himself. “It was NOT your fault. You were the only one who cared enough to go after her, weren’t you? That says something.” She smoothed her son’s unruly hair. “We’ll just tell Mr. Lockhart and…”

And that’s when Cloud started begging for her not to say a word. “She’ll be in trouble if she went up there on her own!” he cried. “I don’t want her to get into trouble!”

Claudia sighed sadly. It seemed such a simple matter to resolve – Cloud had followed _her_ , not the other way around. But in his state of distress, she doubted Brian would see it that way. Reluctantly, she agreed to let the subject lie, in favor of waiting and hoping that Tifa would be alright…

*******

It was seven days, and the village waited anxiously to find out if one of their favorites was going to be okay.

Cloud was scared to go to the Lockhart house – not that Claudia thought he would be allowed in – but there he was, staring out the window in that direction every afternoon – and it broke Claudia’s heart in two.

It was as if a collective sigh of relief was heard when on that last day, Tifa woke up - groggy and confused, but apparently unharmed.

Word got around that Tifa didn’t remember anything, and much as Claudia tried to persuade him otherwise, Cloud still didn’t want his mother to tell Brian the truth. No matter how many times she told him otherwise, Cloud seemed determined to fault himself for the accident.

It pained her to watch. She wondered, later, if perhaps she should have been firmer when she had a chance – but by then, it was too late. The damage to her little son’s reputation had been done, and her sweet child found himself ending up in fights. Even starting them. All over an accident that wasn’t his fault.

She was glad for Tifa’s kind spirit. Even with her father declaring Cloud off-limits, she still would risk his wrath, remembering to say hi whenever their paths crossed, brightening the whole of Cloud’s world. She, an idol of the village, totally out of the league of a young quiet boy, nothing but an outcast to the others. Even so, Claudia started to see the first stirrings of love in her son’s eyes, signs only a mother could tell this early. And she wondered.

*******

Cloud never forgot that day. From that day on, there was no more playing with Tifa. He would sometimes see her for a little bit, and talk to her, but she would always seem nervous, looking around for her dad.

Her father bought her a new kitten, not something to replace her mother’s love, but something to ease a little bit of the pain. Cloud ran into her in the town square one day, with the bundle of white in her arms. “Can I pet it?” Cloud asked.

“Him,” Tifa corrected, “and yes, you can.”

Cloud softly stroked the kitten’s white fur, entranced. Tifa looked so happy, so perfectably comfortable holding that ball of fluff in her arms. “She’s like a little baby,” Cloud remarked, mindless of the other kids in the square, not caring for once if anyone called him a sissy. Tifa’s smile was worth any amount of embarrassment.

“He kind of is my baby, for now,” she told Cloud. “Someday, I’ll have my own.” She stroked the cat herself, and for a moment, their fingers brushed. Cloud felt an electric energy, strange, something he had never felt before in all his ten years… it felt… almost like a little bit of magic.

“Is that what you want?” Cloud wanted to know.

She smiled, but it was sad, wistful. “Yeah. That’s what I really want. A family of my own… You know. Children. Someone to love them with me. A home.”

Cloud’s heart went out to her. They both were missing a parent now, Cloud realized. And it she had it worse, it seemed to him. He didn’t even have a dad… but wasn’t losing a mom worse? It felt like it _should_ be. And he’d never gotten to know his dad… but she’d had her mother for eight years.

Eight years of memories, with the knowledge of never more to be made.

He wished he could make that better for her. Now, Cloud understood how silly he had been to think his mom should marry Mr. Lockhart. But he started to wonder if maybe… when he grew up… maybe he could marry Tifa _himself_. And then children… He’d have to save up a lot of money to buy her kids. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know where to buy them. Was it… like a special medicine or something? That a woman took and then it started growing?

He wanted to be her best friend. Make her happy. See her smile every day. But most of all, he wanted to take care of her. To protect her. To do what he _hadn’t_ done that day on the mountain, make it better this time.

*******

Sometimes, Cloud couldn’t help thinking she should stand up for herself. Tell her dad she would talk to anyone she wanted. One day, to his own surprise, Cloud found himself saying exactly that to her.

She seemed startled. “Maybe…” she told him. “But… I mean... I have to take care of my father.”

“But if he loves you, he would want to know how you feel,” Cloud replied.

“I guess… I’m just not very good at saying how I feel,” she replied awkwardly, as if even saying THAT was too much. Cloud felt bad for making her so uncomfortable; he didn’t know how to rescue the moment. Instead, he found himself reaching for her...

Tifa let him gently take her hand. _He’s always been so sweet with me,_ she thought. _Ever since we were little. I think he’s my favorite boy in the village. So why does he get in these stupid fights with my other friends?_ Cloud rarely “won” those fights, but he didn’t seem to lose, either. More than once, she had encountered one of her other friends with bruises or a bloody nose after running into Cloud.

“Why doesn’t his mom stop it?” she asked her father once.

“Hmmph.” he snorted. “Claudia’s a strong woman, but sometimes even the strongest women can’t control a boy completely. After a certain age, he’s going to have to _want_ to change.”

Tifa thought about that a lot.

In some ways, it was a constant battle with her own father as well. He tried to keep her from going up into the mountains, and every time he pulled a little harder, she’d pushed a little further. Fights over Cloud, too; she knew her father disliked their neighbor - irrationally, as she saw it - there had been rumors of an accident he had caused, and although Tifa remembered none of it, she wouldn’t believe for a minute that he’d willingly do her harm. Never.

In the meantime, Cloud was changing, Growing, slowly but surely – and so was she. At age twelve, her shape started changing in ways that she had been warned about, but wasn’t entirely prepared for nevertheless. Curves filling out, making her feel gangly and awkward. Without a mother, she found herself woefully unprepared. On the surface, she understood what it all meant, even though part of her still thought, _yuck_ , _I’ll never do that with a boy;_ but it didn’t change the fact that the same boys who had been her friends all these years were starting to look at her differently and act different around her as well.

It left her self-conscious and confused. At heart, part of her wanted to be a little girl again, to run and play freely without these kinds of… complications.

Cloud started to hear the other boys talk about Tifa, how pretty she was. _How stupid the other boys are,_ he thought. _She’s always been pretty. Tifa, what do you see in those boys? Can’t you see I’m different?_

He wanted to believe he was something special. Something Tifa could like. _Or even love,_ he was now saying to himself.

He saw Tifa kissing some of those boys. He wished it was him. Some of the girls let him kiss them too – not as many as the boys who kissed Tifa, but some – and it was fun, but he still kept wanting something – someONE – different.

They said other things too. About the way her body looked. Cloud was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to say things like that about a girl, even though he couldn’t help noticing too. It made him really uncomfortable for a while. _I don’t want to be like those boys._

One day, he happened to be shopping with his mother. He was almost as tall as she was now, but still shorter than all the other boys - they all seemed to be growing much further than he was, and that worried and frustrated him. Was he doomed to be the shortest and weakest _forever_?

Tifa was across the square, and three of those boys were looking at her, laughing. One pointed, though Tifa was looking away. Cloud wanted to punch that boy; if his mother wasn’t there, he would have in a minute. As it was, he was thinking about doing it anyway. He looked at his mother, who had a serious frown on her face.

“What is it, Mom?” he asked.

“I don’t like the way they’re talking.” Cloud couldn’t but agree. “If they are looking, it’s one thing... but they’re making fun of her. I hope I raised you to be a better man than that.”

“Why would they do that?” Cloud demanded, angry. If he asked his mother, would she give her approval to go kick some ass?

“Because they’re nervous around her.” His mom’s answer surprised Cloud; HE was the one who was nervous around Tifa all the time, what did _they_ have to be worried about? “That poor girl. She doesn’t even understand yet how much attention she will get for the way she looks. She really doesn’t need to dress so skimpy to attract them.”

Cloud didn’t think that was the reason at all. “It’s easier to move around in,” she told him once. She was sitting outside, mending one of the short skirts she favored nowadays. “I put shorts inside them and everything. See?” She held up her work to show him.

In fact, Cloud wasn’t sure she knew boys looked at her at all; she didn’t seem to care much one way or the other. He more often saw her running wild in the hills, with or without the others. And if she didn’t favor any of them… He gathered up his courage one day.

“You’re really pretty,” he told her one day, right out of the blue.

“Am I?” she asked, flustered.

“Of course you are,” he told her gently. “Why wouldn’t you think so?”

Tifa sighed and looked away, and for a moment Cloud thought she wasn’t going to say anything. “I guess it bugs me to think of myself like that, because of what I’ve always been told. Girls are supposed to be pretty, so they can find a hero who takes care of them.” She paused. “Is that really what I’m supposed to be?”

“I think you can do more than that,” Cloud told her gravely, and she smiled, her heart warmed inside. It was a touching thought, and the way he looked at her… it was _different_ , somehow. She couldn’t really explain it. It just felt… like he was really looking at _her_.

Cloud wondered sometimes – _often_ – if Tifa could see in herself the same that he saw in her. Beautiful, intelligent, kind… He wanted to feel worthy of her. Like… maybe he could BE that hero for her.

But he wasn’t good enough now.

He couldn’t be the weakling he was. He had to get stronger. _Better_. He wanted to be the best for her.

It was around this time that Nibelheim started hearing about Sephiroth.

*******

Over the years, sporadic groups of ShinRa employees had come to Nibelheim to work on the old reactor. That was nothing new. The reactor was further up the mountain than most residents cared to go, even as they derived the village’s electricity from its source.

They always gossiped, news from the outside; Cloud had never much cared before. But this time, he found himself paying attention to their stories. He heard all kinds of reports from the Wutai war, a distant abstraction that had been around for nearly as long as he could remember, but was too remote to affect the small village. Had it not been for their connection to the company, it might not have made any difference at all.

He found himself listening to the rumors about the war heroes. SOLDIERs, ShinRa’s elite force. Brave. Powerful. Invincible. And the greatest of them, Sephiroth, the hero of Wutai, who was single-handedly winning the war for ShinRa.

His heart still panged with the memory of Tifa sliding out of his grasp and falling down the mountain.

SOLDIER. That was what he wanted to be, the best of the best. For that, he would have to go… to Midgar.

The other boys of the town had already started leaving, many of them leaving for Midgar themselves. For ordinary jobs. Nothing special. He would do better than that.

He would be something special.

He would be the hero Tifa wanted.


	5. 1992

Train doors closed behind her, and Ifalna breathed. The murmured noise of the crowd, the clang of the train, swallowed her whole, hiding in plain sight, and as the train pulled away from the station, her heart dared to hope she might make it out yet.

Away.

Aerith clung to her skirts, lip quivering but strangely not in fear. Her wide-eyed gaze took in the sights around her, the girl as always unafraid, embracing the chaos of the scene as if it was something she saw every day. In her hands was the white materia Ifalna had squeezed into her small palms

_Her daughter was growing every day more wild, more free, as much as was allowed in the confines of the lab. Every day they stayed was a day that there was a little more danger, closer to the day when Hojo when try to infect the girl with the same poison that he had given Ifalna, the poison that would never let her get away._

The withdrawal was already beginning. The concentrated Mako shots that she had been made to depend left her with only this lucky few-hour-window to escape. Ifalna knew full well she was not going to make it; she had known that from the day Hojo killed her love and took her away from the family she’d hoped to have, all because of a bloodline she could not help. Heritage that made her valuable for reasons she could never hope to change – a connection to the Planet that they could not, would not understand, would never be theirs.

Because the Planet would not allow itself to be used that way.

_Tseng had become a standing presence in their lives since he had been assigned to them months before. Aerith had taken to him like the bubbly child she was, but Ifalna remained reticent, suspicious. As pleasant as the young man might be on the surface, there was the dark velvet lining of the interior underneath._

She was racing against time, precious minutes dragging by until her need for the drug consumed her, sending her into endless sleep. At least she would have the satisfaction of denying ShinRa their access to the Promised Land a little longer. Aerith was yet too young to be of use to ShinRa, and for that she was grateful.

_The building had been bustling, only sparse rumors reaching Ifalna’s confined ears. As grateful as she was that the visits to the lab had recently diminished, she still feared action, any action on the part of ShinRa, and the consequences it might incur._

Stomach pains cramped her forward, Ifalna doubled up with tears streaming from her eyes, swallowing a cry that would only bring unwanted attention. The train tunnel was dark enough; she hoped no one could see. “Mother,” Aerith looked up at her with Gast’s green eyes, “What is it?”

_Tseng breezed through her doorway, all stoic Turk blankface. Ifalna’s eyes asked the question she knew he had already come to answer. “They’re mobilizing,” he told her. “Finally making the big push into Wutai. The building is chaos.”_

“The Planet,” was all Ifalna could force out; truthfully, it was all she could explain .The Cetra connection being severed without the Mako needed to maintain it, the Planet reaching out for one of its own, its cries of pain echoing Ifalna’s own inside.

_“They’ve done this before,” replied Ifalna, but Tseng rattled on. “This is much bigger. They’re sending out most of their strength.”_

_He took her by the shoulders. “They’re sending… Sephiroth.” One hand slid to hers and pressed something into her palm. Ifalna looked down to see a keycard. One with the highest level of clearance, one that could get her anywhere in the building unchallenged. Downstairs. OUTSIDE._

_She didn’t need Tseng’s subtle glance to tell her. This was her chance._

She couldn’t explain it all to Aerith; she couldn’t bring herself to explain the fate she wanted her daughter to avoid, the fate that had become hers by force. Nausea wrenched her, vomit threatening to come up, but Ifalna held strong. _Just a little longer…_

_“Why are you doing this?” she couldn’t help but ask. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. “I am a Turk. I obey my orders… but how I interpret them is up to me.” He punctuated his statement with a curt nod, and that was the last before he turned and walked away._

The darkness of the plate covered the train as it descended below, and Ifalna allowed herself a smidgen of relief as the upper part of Midgar disappeared from view. _Good riddance._ She never thought she'd hope for her child to grow up without the sky, but down here, in the slums, as deep as Ifalna could scurry into, Aerith would be safe – concealed by the crowds to which ShinRa gave no mind. As a slum dweller, a nobody, she would have a chance; as a Cetra, she was doomed.

Ifalna huddled on the seat, pulling Aerith close. Passengers arrived, departed, faces changing but none paying any more attention than the other. She was weakening, and Ifalna wondered home much time it was to the end of the line. Sector Seven’s train graveyard, deep within the slums, the farthest Ifalna could hope to go.

All she could do was cradle close her child; using her powers to block the sense of wrongness around them, refusing to taint the last time she would have with her daughter. Success. Aerith only looked around curiously, her trusting nature showing no fear.

At long last the speaker announced the Sector Seven arrival. _8:37 am. Final stop. All passengers must disembark. Sector Seven, train graveyard._ The remains of the crowd dispersed, and Ifalna grabbed Aerith by the hand, pulling herself up and out. _Away…_

Outside, couples, families, those separated by wartime reunited for the short length of a leave, as ShinRa’s drones spilled onto the train behind her, Ahead of her the slums, Sector Seven, an uncertain kind of safety…

The world spun, and Ifalna tumbled forward. Aerith’s screams were heard only dimly, as if through water. The ground rose to meet her.

She vomited then, mako-tainted bile burning her throat. She didn’t know what Hojo had put in the serum besides Mako, but she could feel it tearing through her insides, weakening the cells from within. She tumbled forward, and felt her arm bone crash against the pavement with a resounding _crack,_ and even with the searing pain that followed, Ifalna refused to cry out, scared to draw any attention she did not want. Weakly, she tried to hush Aerith’s agitated words, but she could no longer hide from the girl that something was terribly wrong.

And then she felt arms gently around her. Ifalna fought at first, thinking it was a guard – or worse, a SOLDIER – who had found her, but it was a woman’s soothing voice that spoke to her .The words indistinct at first, she only noting tones of concern, but slowly language came to her.

“…call someone…” the woman’s voice was telling Aerith.

“No,” Ifalna gasped out. She grabbed the woman’s hand with her good one, looking up into a kind face, a woman perhaps five, seven years older. “Please…”

“You’re hurt,” the woman told her gently. “We’ve got to get you some help.” Behind her, Aerith could only repeat, over and over, “mothermothermothermother…”

“There is no help,” Ifalna told her, wincing with the pressure of breath on sore ribs. Probably one or two of those broken as well. “We need… trying to get away…”

The woman seemed to understand. “Of course. The war.” _The war,_ Ifalna thought. That would seem the obvious assumption. This sort of thing was so common nowadays - those fleeing, refugees, injured and poor, no place to go and nowhere they came from - Wutai, Midgar, it was all the same, when you no longer had a home.

“You see...” Ifalna propped herself up. “Please… one woman to another…” She let herself take in the woman’s face - not beautiful, but neither was she plain. Open. Kind. A face to trust. _She’s lost someone too. She knows._

Aerith pushed her way in between, the woman sliding slightly aside. “I see,” she said, two words of obvious reluctance and finality. “Here… your daughter…” She gently pushed Aerith in front of her, and the child leaned over her mother. Strangely enough, there were no tears on her face.

“Sweetheart… Aerith… it’s time for me to go back to the Lifestream.” Aerith nodded gravely, knowing full well the truths of life her mother had passed down. _We’ll see each other again there someday._

And for that, Aerith showed no grief.

Ifalna’s vision narrowed. In the distance, light, souls calling to her. She would miss her daughter dearly, but she was not afraid. “Please… take Aerith somewhere safe…” And with those few words, Ifalna let the Planet take her.

Elmyra stood, one arm wrapped protectively around the girl – _Aerith_ , she told herself – sorrow filling her. The child only seemed grave, and Elmyra stood there for long minutes, wondering what to make of it all and what could be done with this woman’s body. Aerith seemed to hear her thoughts. “Wait,” the girl told her solemnly. “Watch.”

Elmyra DID, and slowly a light began to shine from the woman’s body, growing vibrant if never bright, and she gasped in surprise as the body broke away into slivers of blue and green, sparks fading in a wink. And the woman was gone.

Elmyra had never learned her name.

Aerith did cry then, not bawling, but gentle sobs, the sort that had a splashed of pained joy in them. Elmyra took her in a hug.

Shouts were heard from the other end of the platform. Aerith buried her head in Elmyra’s skirts, and Elmyra saw the guards then, armed grunts of ShinRa, mindless followers of orders. They seemed to be stopping each person, searching for someone, starting with those nearest the train.

Elmyra instinctively shrunk into the shadows.

“We have to get away,” Aerith told her. “Mother said so.” Elmyra nodded, urgency infecting her as well.

“We’ll go to my house,” she told Aerith. “You can stay with me. Would you like that?” The girl nodded. “Sector Five. It takes a little while to get there, but we’ll get there as fast as we can, OK? Just follow my lead.” Elmyra took her by the hand, placing her own body between Aerith and the view of the soldiers. She doubted they could escape ShinRa forever, but for now, this was the best they could do. She walked firmly, striding forward with more confidence than she felt, and Aerith held close to her side.

Slowly, the commotion from the station faded from hearing, as Elmyra turned down warrens of haphazard streets that she knew from years of experience. Soon, she and Aerith were swallowed by the ruckus and the squalor of the endless slums.


	6. December 0000-March 0001

The cold was picking up. The _true_ cold, December cold, barreling down off the mountain itself. Not the tepid breezes that often drifted townwards, winds that carried with them the warmth of the reactor they all depended on.

People said that it had not always been that way - that once it had only been the natural chill of fresh mountain air, carrying the promises of winter cool to come, this early in December merely anticipation. But Tifa had never known any other way.

The reactor had been there as long as she had been alive, after all, bringing electricity and comfort to a town that would otherwise be off the grid altogether. Even the train only came once a week, and that was only BECAUSE of the reactor, it built to bring supplies and employees for maintenance. Yet that event was rare – the reactor had hummed along smoothly as long as it had been standing, and probably always would.

Still early evening, Tifa took no coat, not planning to go far. The winter sun set so soon that the stars were already shining, no moon that night to dull their brightness. She had heard in the city you couldn’t see the stars; that in some places you couldn’t even see the SKY. _How would people LIVE like that?_ she wondered. She couldn’t imagine doing without, and she resolved to never, _ever_ go to such a place.

She was barely stepping outside her door, but she still had a climb upwards, and as she put one foot on the lowest rung of the ladder - heedless of whether or not her dress flared - all she could think about was why she was here and who she was to meet.

_The knock on the door took her by surprise. Loud, insistent. She stopped playing her piano, crossing her room to the window and putting her head outside._

_Below, she saw a shock of bright blond hair, a spiked mess that could only belong to one person. But she couldn’t recall him ever knocking on her door before._

_“Cloud!” she called down in surprise. “What are you doing here?”_

_He took a couple of steps back, looking up to where she was framed by the room’s light. “Tifa...” he began awkwardly. “Uh… can you come down to meet me?”_

_She puzzled, then nodded, surprised and confused. Her father wasn’t home– that was probably the only reason he braved coming over in the first place. Brian’s hatred had never lessened over the years – he, still protective, after the accident she still couldn’t remember._

_Some had whispered that he pushed her. Others only said he was the one who encouraged her to go – in their eyes, that was nearly as bad. None of it sounded right to her. What she COULD recall… She remembered her mother dying. She remembered hearing stories about the dead going beyond Mt. Nibel. She remembered making her plan…_

_…but what CLOUD had to do with that, she still had no idea._

_Reaching the front door, she undid the latch, opening it wide and welcome. Regardless of her father’s opinion, he meant a lot to her. Cloud had been her next-door neighbor, and therefore THERE, for as long as she could remember – a constant in her life, just like the reactor, just like Nibelheim itself._

_Cloud stood there, nervousness evident. Tifa wished she knew what to say or do to make him more comfortable, but she found herself at a loss. “Hi,” she began, trying to load as much warmth and welcome as could be reasonably expected out of that one word._

_“Hi,” Cloud returned. Then he just stood there, blinking, those impossibly blue eyes boring into her, getting under her skin in a way that both confused and delighted her. He was a cute kid, small, shorter than she – she’d hit her growth spurt early, though lately he was starting to catch up. But that wasn’t all of it. It wasn’t the feelings she sometimes got when she looked at the handsome boys of the village – well, before they all started to leave – it was… was…_

_SAFE. That was the word she was looking for. Like he would never, ever willingly do her harm._

_And that was why she could never believe he HAD._

_The silence drew on, leaving it to Tifa to break it. “Was there… something you needed, Cloud?” she asked, timidly polite._ You wouldn’t be here, otherwise, duh, _she berated herself inwardly._

_“Tifa…” he began, and she wondered if he was actually planning to string more than two words together tonight. “I was… uh... wondering. Well, I mean… I wanted to tell you something.”_

_“I’m listening,” she said gently._

_Cloud looked over her shoulder anxiously, but there was no one to be seen – force of habit, she supposed. Most of the guys he used to fight with were no longer in the town._ Most of her friends _, she reminded herself. “Not here,” he finally told her. “Can you… maybe… meetmeatthewatertowertonight?” the last words rushed out._

_The water tower. A date spot…. A make-out spot… though she never had there… Cloud couldn’t be thinking… _could he _? She wasn’t sure if she wanted… “Um… I guess…” she began, stalling for time._

_He sensed her awkwardness. “Just to talk,” he offered, feigning barely-there confidence, running a hand through his hair. It only sproinged up further._

_Tifa didn’t want to crush his little spark of courage. “Sure, then,” she replied, faking a certainty she didn’t truly feel. “Maybe a while after sundown? You know when the stars come out. The view is always best then,” she added, encouraging._

_Cloud just kept_ staring _, and Tifa was starting to feel uncomfortable. “Ok,” he agreed at last. She left the door open for another long moment, closing it slowly. “I’ll see you then,” she offered, tone one of determined finality._

_As the front door clicked shut behind her, she leaned back on it, realizing there were butterflies in her stomach and her heart was pounding out of her chest._

Atop the water tower, Cloud looked to the west, where the last fading pale blues of sunset slid behind the mountains. _This is so stupid. Why would she even come?_ He was wondering what had even possessed him to ask – hell, this whole IDEA of going to Midgar was stupid. But his mother, despite initial objections, had made arrangements - it was too late to back out now.

As the stars began to wink into existence, he thought of something. _Surely the stars are images of love._ He’d read or heard that somewhere, but for the life of him couldn’t remember where. But true enough, somehow they seemed to reflect what he hid deep within his heart.

A creak of a board behind him, and Cloud whirled around, part excitement and part fear. Tifa’s head popped up around the side, her natural grace having let her sneak up the ladder unnoticed. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, genuine apology in her voice, and Cloud melted. _She didn’t flake. She DID want to see me._

Then another thought followed. _That means I can’t chicken out on what I planned to say to her._

He’d thought about this. A lot. There were a lot of things he WANTED to say to her… and he had thought about it a hundred times by now. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her, respected her. How amazing she was. How beautiful and smart and warm and funny and strong and…

He wanted to tell her…

_No, he couldn’t_. Too much. How could he say he loved her? What did he know of such things?

And even if he did… he wasn’t someone SHE could love.

Not yet.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked, walking over to sit near him - just close enough to talk, far enough away to put a little distance between them. Cloud couldn’t help but notice, and it made his heart sink a little bit. He hoped that one day he could – WOULD – be someone… _No, that’s not something I can tell her either._

He cleared his throat. “I’ve decided… well, come spring, I’m going to Midgar.” He paused, pleased with himself that he had at least been able to start. “It’s a for-sure thing. My mom paid for the tickets and everything.”

Tifa gasped in surprise, feeling her stomach drop. Why should the idea of his loss strike her so deep? “Midgar? What are you going to do there?” _Midgar… where they all end up going._ “I mean… so many of the boys have left already.” _My friends…_ There weren’t many girls in town, and those that were, bored her silly with their talk of dolls and sewing and cleaning and the husbands they dreamed of. Tifa didn’t know what she was going to do, but… _anything but that._

Part of her wished she could go with Cloud.

“I’m not just GOING to Midgar,” Cloud told her, and she heard a surge of pride in his voice. “I’m going to join SOLDIER. I’m going to BE someone. Like the Great Sephiroth,” he announced. _Tifa, I’m going to be someone, and maybe, just maybe, it will be someone you want._

“Oh,” Tifa said. Her dull enthusiasm made Cloud’s heart sink. A long moment passed, the two of them left with nothing but the quiet of the encroaching night and the stars to keep them company.

_SOLDIER, huh,_ Tifa thought. That was a big deal. Could Cloud really DO it? _After all, he’s still so tiny… I mean… not that he’s weak or anything… but could he really have it in him to go that far?_

Then again… she’d always been taught it’s what was inside that counts. _If he has enough motivation, enough heart…_ Could she… maybe… give him a little encouragement?

And if he made it... _He could be a hero. He really could._ As much of a hero as Sephiroth? nagged another voice.

_Maybe,_ she told that voice. _Maybe... he could even be MY hero. I’ve never had a hero…_ Admirers, always. But someone who would promise HIMSELF, really BE there to protect her, defend her… fill something of the emptiness of her mother’s passing.

“So, uh,”, - she interrupted Cloud’s thoughts – “If you really do… I mean, wouldn’t you be, like, famous and stuff? Like, you’ll be in the newspapers?”

_I sure hope so,_ Cloud told himself, briefly fantasizing about HIS name, Cloud Strife, SOLDIER, in the papers. A hero. Famous. SOMEONE. “Maybe,” was all he could say. He turned to look at Tifa.

She gazed downwards, chin in hands, and sniffled slightly, kicking her legs idly back and forth. Improbably, he found himself looking at her dress. _Blue. She likes blue._ He wondered about that – he loved the red of her eyes, that color that wasn’t red, not really, but was way-too-something-else to deserve to be called brown. Brown was for her hair, but brown was too simple there too, for a color close to night but not-quite-there-yet, too warm for the mysteries of darkness, a rich curtain framing her perfect features, nose slanting down to barley-pink lips just ripe for-

“Hey, let’s make a promise. “ Tifa’s voice, her sweet, calming voice, breaking his memorization of her looks - his trying to freeze this moment, this image of her, forever in his memory. “If you get famous, and…”

Tifa’s own fantasy had drifted to thoughts of her hero. _Coming to save her_ … not that she’d ever needed something to be saved FROM, except the endless days inching out ahead of her, days with nothing and no one ever changing. She hoped it wasn’t always that way. “If I’m ever in a pinch… you’ll come and save me, right?” she said, turning to him. “You’ll be my hero… I want that… to experience that at least once.” _Just like in the story books_ …

“Huh?” he replied.

“Come on!” she urged, panicked at the thought of being left behind. “Promise me… please?” Her eyes brimmed with the beginnings of tears. _Promise me you’ll be back._ Maybe, really, that was all she wanted from him. To be there.

He looked back, and this time, his eyes were not anxious or sad or angry or frustrated or any of the other emotions that seemed to so often mar his adorable face. “I promise,” he said, and she saw a flicker of – _something? –_ that she didn’t know what to call, but it cut through the evening chill to warm her, head down to her toes.

It was the easiest answer to give. It was the promise he _wanted_ to make. Cloud saw relief and calm in Tifa’s eyes, and _knew_. He would always keep that promise, if he never did anything else in his life. It would be worth it.

“Look!” Tifa started, whisking her head around and up. Cloud’s head followed hers, just in time to see a shooting star – a big one, leaving its luminescent trail across the sky for only a second before leaving nothing but the afterimage against their lids.

She made a wish then. A wish for herself, but it was a wish for him too. _Become a hero, Cloud,_ she whispered softly inside her mind. _Become what you want to be, and then come back to me. And save me too._

The silent, starry sky was all that was left; in the distance the murmur of ordinary village life could be heard. Her father would be home soon. She COULD stand up to him, tell him where she had been – but she didn’t want to. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Someday, she would, but not tonight.

Tifa had a hundred things she wanted to tell Cloud – no, thousands, more than the stars in the sky – but she couldn’t make sense of any of them right now. Nothing important could she find the words to say. “Well, good night,” she told him, proper and polite.

“Good night,” Cloud replied, and she couldn’t help but think he seemed somehow – relieved? _But why?_ Still his gaze never wavered, and somehow, even as she turned her back, she knew those eyes were on her still.

She hoped they always would be. _You’re my hero now, Cloud. Don’t you ever forget it._

********

Spring came all too quickly, it seemed.

Tifa finally blossomed into a woman, shyly thinking it must show all over her face.

She saw Cloud in passing, wondering about their winter promise, but she barely had a chance to talk to him since. Or more accurately, she was too scared to create a chance. She worried if he remembered, if he wanted to take it back.

She couldn’t bear to think that he might.

She chided herself for such thoughts as the days slipped away, knowing it was only a matter of time before he left.

In the meantime, Cloud hadn’t forgotten; in fact, it was all he thought about….. but he could hardly admit that to Tifa. _What if I’m reading too much into this_?

Instead, he busied himself with getting ready for Midgar. His mom gave him a little bit of money and a lot of advice. “I wish you wouldn’t go,” Claudia repeated, yet another weak echo, both mother and son knowing his path was set.

“I’ll come back, Mom,” Cloud replied. “And you’ll be proud of me when I do.”

Claudia allowed herself a now-rare ruffling of his hair. “I’ve always been proud of you,” she said sadly. There were so many other things she couldn’t say. It burned her heart, but she knew: _When you come back, it won’t be for me._

There was only so long she could expect that she, as his mother, would be first in her son’s heart. Even if he didn’t realize it, SHE knew she was letting go of her son. At some point, the boy had to become a man, and that day, it seemed, had arrived. Cloud had started shooting up fast; it seemed every day he was just a little taller.

She hoped she had done alright, raising her son with only a female parent. Some day, she would tell him the truth about his father, hidden in her heart. _She, a carefree, uninhibited girl filled with the same wanderlust that now drove Cloud, letting her understand why he wanted to leave so far away. Finding herself pregnant before even her sixteenth birthday, not knowing WHO the father was._

She’d at least inherited the ownership of this house to come back to, and once her little sunshine of a baby arrived, she couldn’t have cared less. Combining last names to make a new one was hardly uncommon, and she’d passively let Cloud believe that’s what she had done. But in fact, his name was only his own – she’d considered several possibilities before combining her own name, Strauss, with _life_. She’d latched onto that tumultuous amalgam of a name that, combined with his unusual first, could be interpreted so many different ways, as many as she had wishes for her darling son’s future.

Someday, she’d tell him.

Someday when he’d had a chance to make it on his own, and come back to her with the pride of a man.

In the meantime, she helped him with sorting and packing, relishing their last moments of idle chatter. Cloud was taking few things with him, but they pored through every drawer and closet nevertheless. Mother and son rediscovering objects of the past as they worked, stopping to reminisce about the life they had shared here in Nibelheim, the years Cloud grew under his caring mother’s eye.

Cloud found his whiffs of nostalgia threatening to turn into doubts and fears, but he fought them down, reminding himself what he was doing, and why he was doing it. In any case, all these things - and his mother - would always be there waiting for him.

The last thing Cloud did was cut his hair. His mom offered to help him out, but he declined. _Time to get rid of this kiddie ponytail_ , he thought…

“This stuff is like straw,” he grumbled. “Pokes out everywhere. _Ridiculous_.” Grabbing a pair of scissors, he hacked it off just above the tie, tail flopping to the ground with one slice. The strands bounced up into an even spikier mess than before. _Hopeless_.

His mother looked up at him; how long, Cloud suddenly realized, had she been looking not _down_ but _up?_ Had he missed the day when that changed? Her eyes held regret, but she smiled. “Remember, Cloud,” she told him wistfully. “I will always be your mother.”

He held her and kissed her goodbye on the cheek, savoring her last words, storing him for the comfort he would need in the coming months.

*******

Nerves and butterflies were his companions at to the train station, running through the silence of his head, until…

“ _Cloud_!” he heard her voice, and from around the corner, Tifa Lockhart came running.

She stopped a few feet short of him, panting, as if she had run full speed from her house. Cloud wondered if she had. She stood there, staring, with – _something_ – in her eyes. Worry, concern – _affection_ , even. Something Cloud didn’t think he’d seen before.

He was possessed by an almost uncontrollable urge to drop his suitcase, run to her, pull her into his arms – _would she let him?_ there was just enough time –

_No_ , he stopped himself. _The first time I kiss her, I want to know I’m the man she deserves_.

Instead, he met her eyes across the space, freezing this moment in his mind, memorizing every detail of her beautiful, worried features. But the train whistled then, and Cloud realized he couldn’t wait any longer.

Tifa gaped, taking in every inch of the boy who was starting to show the shape of a man. Finally as tall as her, perhaps a hair above, and the rest filling out as well… She wished she would be there to watch what he would become. “Goodbye, Cloud,” Tifa called, her voice quavering.

“Goodbye… Tifa…” He held her eyes for that one last precious moment, as he stepped upwards into the compartment.

He settled in his seat, single suitcase behind him, and looked out the window for his last glimpses of her before she was hidden from view. Slumping back, he sighed as the distance opened wide between he and everything he’d ever known. Cinnamon eyes sparkled in his mind.

_Tifa, I’ll come back…_


	7. 1992-0000

The loneliness was eased.

Elmyra found herself quickly growing close to Aerith, this strange child who had tumbled into her life. So full of love and life, she endeared herself to everyone around her; she soon integrated into the community, the Sector 5 denizens accepting unquestioning the presence of yet another orphan in their midst.

From the beginning, Aerith was something different, something strange and special. She talked of so many things, of birds and trees and flowers, things she had never seen. One day, not long after bringing Aerith into her home, she found the girl handling a strange object. “What is that, Aerith?” she asked, curious.

Aerith started, snatching it to her chest. “It’s… my materia.” She sniffled. “My… mom gave it to me.” Unshed tears in her daughter’s usually-bright eyes, reminding Elmyra that the woman at the train station had never left the girl’s heart.

She would do her best to do honor to that woman’s memory.

“A Materia? What does it do?” she asked Aerith.

The girl balled it up in her joined hands. “Doesn’t do anything,” she mumbled. “My real mom -“ here she looked embarrassed – “told me to keep it with me always. It makes me feel safe.”

Elmyra’s heart panged, wanting to give Aerith all the comfort she could. Aerith had seen too much in her young life already, had so little left from that time to hold onto. She said that she and her mother had escaped from a research lab, but when Elmyra gently pried her for details, Aerith insisted her memories were all fuzzy; and Elmyra pushed no more.

She reached out her own hands, covering Aerith’s smaller in her own. Warmth seeped up from within, not just from the girl’s skin, but seeming to come out of the white sphere itself.

“Well,” Elmyra told her. “How can we best keep this safe?” The sphere seemed to hum an appreciative response. “I have an idea…”

She reached for the tie in Aerith’s hair, letting soft brown curls tumble around her face and shoulders. _A truly beautiful child, both outside and in_. She took thick plaits of Aerith’s hair, beginning the braid; Aerith smiled as Elmyra finished the complicated weave at the base, nesting the sphere and softly weaving the remaining locks around it to create a tight, secure home.

Aerith reached one hand up to the knot, a delighted look lighting her lively green eyes. Spontaneously, she threw her arms around Elmyra’s neck, kissing her on the cheek.

Aerith’s warm natural affection filled a void she hadn’t realized the depth of. In ten years of marriage Elmyra had never been able to conceive a child, and she had gradually resigned herself to living a barren existence, panicked all the more when another mission took her husband away. These two lost souls bonded, filling each other with a missing light.

Elmyra had been fortunate enough that her husband’s income allowed her a comfortable lifestyle. Her labor was minimal, though after meeting him as an army nurse, she continued to act as the neighborhood midwife, and now that she had a child of her own, each delivery filled her with all the more joy. Though she didn’t have enough gil to make it up to the plate, she had quite probably one of the nicest houses in all the slums, definitely in Sector Five.

Her husband’s salary kept arriving to pay for home and expenses, but still, he himself never returned. It was certain by now something, probably top secret, had intervened to keep him away – but still, shouldn’t there have been SOME way to send word?

Looking back, Elmyra realized she must have known deep within her heart; some ethereal sense speaking to her across the space, a voice she did not want to hear. But it was Aerith who first confirmed what she so dearly wanted to deny, approaching her in the kitchen one day.

“Don’t cry, Mom,” Aerith said with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Elmyra slowly turned from the dinner she had been preparing, gently setting down the spoon beside. “Why would I cry, Aerith?”

“Someone close to you has joined the Lifestream,” Aerith said gravely. “His heart was trying to make its way back to you to say goodbye. But he wanted you to know he was thinking of you until the end.”

Aerith’s often-mysterious pronouncements were something Elmyra had learned to adjust to; but still, when the letter finally came, that didn’t stop her from sobbing into the table, the months of unknown flowing out into a tangle of grief and relief. Aerith softly stroked her back and shoulders in comfort. “Please don’t be lonely, Mom,” the little girl implored her. “He’s just returned to the planet, that’s all.”

Taking her daughter firmly into her arms, Elmyra counted the blessings that remained.

With the notice of Shinra as well came a pension that would allow Elmyra to not work, and to care for Aerith full time. She still tended to the women of the neighborhood out of kindness and joy; but it was in devoting herself to Aerith that her life truly gained meaning.

Aerith was special, in a way Elmyra didn’t quite understand – and so, she wondered. About her origins, about who and what she was.

The answer finally came in the form of a black suit and a Shinra badge.

Aerith huddled behind her mother. Elmyra facing the Turk stone-faced. “What is it you want here?”

Tseng ignored her, crouching down to address her quivering daughter. “Hello, Aerith. It’s been a long time we’ve been looking for you.”  
  


Strangely enough, his voice was soft, free of malice. Almost tender. Aerith relaxed slightly against her mother’s skirts.

“Aerith,” Elmyra turned, putting one arm around her daughter to pull her protectively close. “Do you know this man?”

Aerith nodded, twice.

“Miss Gainsborough.” Tseng turned his attention to Elmyra. “She needs to be returned to Shinra for her own protection.”

Elmyra glared. “She’s a child, not a package.”

He was strictly business now. “Surely you are aware that Aerith is an Ancient?”

_An Ancient_. The word hung in the air, heavy on the breeze. Elmyra met him eye for eye, impatient.

Aerith whimpered.

Tseng knelt back down to look Aerith in the eye. _Age ten_ , he thought, _and you can already see the Lifestream gurgling up inside_. Through those captivating eyes. He’d silently watched Ifalna’s treatment, outwardly beholden to his job, but beneath it all, this child touched a soft spot in his heart, one that wanted to make sure she was protected and safe.

No one had ever solved the mystery of Ifalna’s escape.

“Aerith,” he addressed her, and she pulled slightly away from Elmyra, only cautiously trusting. “We need your help. Don’t you want to help people, make them happy? As an Ancient, you are the only one who can do it, so we want you to come back to Shinra. Don’t you want to bring happiness to the people of the slums and everywhere?”

Aerith remained, silent, an impassively strong child.

Elmyra stroked her daughter’s hair instinctively, brushing the orb hidden within. She’d never pried the child too closely about her strange powers, waiting for her to volunteer the information, but now… she contemplated. She might no longer have the luxury.

“Aerith, is what this man says true?” she asked gently.

Aerith shook her head, shaking her braid wildly. “No! I’m not! I’m not… what he said.”

“But surely, Aerith,” Tseng continued, rising back to his feet, “you know better. Don’t you hear voices when you are alone? The voice of the Planet – it speaks to you, doesn’t it?”

Despite Aerith’s continued protests, Elmyra realized Tseng already knew the truth. Aerith _did_ hear things, telling her secrets she could not have learned any other way. But there was no way Shinra was getting its hands on her daughter.

“I think you’ve said enough,” Elmyra stated firmly. “She’s not going to go with you. Please leave my house.”

She expected protest, but instead, Tseng offered affirmation. “We’d prefer her to come willingly. We can be patient.” He nodded his goodbye. “Until then, Mrs. Gainsborough., rest assured the Turks will keep her… safe.”

Elmyra wondered how many ominous meanings could be hidden behind that word. She slammed the door shut to punctuate her point, not even realizing her heart was pounding until he’d gone.

For some months after that, she worried, poised everyday for a repeat visit, but to her surprise, Tseng remained calmly indifferent. He kept to his request for Aerith’s willing assistance, and the implied promise that there would be no force used against her. It wasn’t a situation she would have chosen, but then again, she supposed one couldn’t get much safer than having the Turks watch over you.

For his part, Tseng dreaded the day he would be ordered to take her in; he’d exhaust all possible options before he let that happen. Torn between loyalties, he couldn’t help but feel affection for this girl growing up under his nose. But if that day should come to pass… it might as well be by him. He was reluctant to allow anyone else to get their hands on her.

He hardly hid that he watched her, and she, of course, knew. When it was his detail, she’d come up to him, talking and laughing gaily. Over the years, Aerith slowly ranged further from her new home; she grew to know many people in the slums, but grew close to few. The two of them formed a tight, self-contained unit, embedded in the wider sector community that was now firmly her home. The plate that some found oppressive to her seemed… _sheltering_. She didn’t want to see the sky; it brought her a jolt of fear, even just the lighting that came in from the sides to reach under the plate. It was only inch by inch that she gathered her courage to expand her horizons, go closer to the edge.

And that’s why it took her so long to find it.

The church was so near the edge, that if the wall hadn’t been there, it might actually have been outside the rim of the plate. The building classic, stoic, such a contrast to the scrap heaps of domiciles around them. It was with trepidation that she creaked open the wooden doors, but despite their apparent weight, they gave little resistance as she entered.

Immediately, a strange sensation of peace washed over her, she not knowing if this was inherent to the place itself, or some sort of strange resonance that she was experiencing. She walked carefully past worn pews, sandals clicking on the ancient boards that insulated the building from hard-packed ground underneath.

For a place so undisturbed, it was surprisingly pristine of dust, bare motes twinkling in ambient light sheltering the building, the light flowing through broken fragments of roof floating above the rafters. Rays concentrated above, delighting her, but where they shone… had there once been an altar, it had been removed, boards underneath broken to reveal bare earth.

It called to her, and as she touched the ground, a bare graze of sensation jolted within her. It was as if the soil was living, a feeling so different from the dead unsoiled earth that comprised the area under the plate. It drew her in a way she couldn’t explain….

When she went back, she brought her flower seeds with her.

*******

“You’re here more and more,” Tseng said.

Aerith didn’t even bother to look up. “They prefer to be tended by me,” she calmly replied. “I can’t trust the job to anyone else.” She could feel Tseng’s amused smile behind her.

“And is it easier for you to hear the Planet here?” he asked.

That _did_ startle her then – how did he know? Here, the connection was ever more potent, facilitating her contact, the flowers telling her the things she was meant to know. She jerked up, alarmed.

“Don’t be afraid, Aerith,” Tseng told her. “You can trust me.”

Aerith only sighed. She knew why Tseng was there, but in a world where there were few she could trust, he was one of the few memories from… _before_. So much else from that time was blocked, but she remembered him as one who would talk to her, make her feel welcome in her frightening world. An accidental constant in her life. She’d first acclimated to his sudden appearances, finally returning to the level of comfort she’d had years before, whether Tseng had first joined the Turks.

She neared her teen years, and it made Tseng wary. The “awakening” Hojo had identified years before, when her vision opened to encompass the outside world. Adulthood would bring it to fruition, and intensify Shinra’s desire for her.

Her garden patch thrived, and one day, Aerith finally brought her mother to see it. Elmyra gazed reverently, softly brushing petals she couldn’t believe were there.

“This is amazing,” she breathed. “So THAT’S what you keep coming here for. Even on the plate you don’t see anything like this.”

“They respond to me.” Aerith was already gathering some small seedlings, along with spoonfuls of earth to comfort them on the ride home. “I’m going to take some home, Mom. I think they might be willing to grow there, too.”

At first Elmyra found it strange that Aerith spoke as if the flowers were sentient, but over time, she wondered why that was so bizarre. Her daughter had not yet reached age thirteen when she blossomed into a woman, and the flowers responded in kind, nascent patches of seedlings exploding into bloom propagating to carpet the hillocks in front of their home with a profusion of color. Soon enough, their street was called Petal Way locally, its reputation well-deserved; the borders of the greenery ever moving outward, encroaching into the town itself, to the happy responses of its inhabitants.

Like all mothers, Elmyra had to slowly release her hold on her daughter, inch by reluctant inch, even as she realized some day she would have to let go completely. But not yet. She allowed Aerith to go to the church even late into the night; over time, Aerith began to half-live there, the flowers her source of joy and delight.

*******

Elmyra was not the only one watching Aerith spread her wings.

Tseng still hoped dearly he could ensure Aerith’s happiness – couldn’t bear to see it washed off her face. He mulled at length how might things turn out for the best, if there was anything in his power to help. She was still so young, he thought, but she was showing signs of becoming a great beauty. An idea began to take form…

“You want to do WHAT?” Elmyra asked, shocked.

“I could get Shinra to arrange a marriage.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her Shinra otherwise planned to marry her off to Sephiroth. To create even MORE perfect children. Better it be him. “Not now, obviously, but we could start the agreement. And when Aerith's of age….It would give her some protection.” _I could protect her._ He wondered what that might be like. Marriage and family were a luxury in the Turks. “There could be a much worse basis for marriage.”

Elmyra was sullen. Tseng knew she was NOT in favor of the idea, not at all, but she was perhaps considering the benefits.

“Aerith, what do YOU think?” she asked her daughter, who had been hanging back, considering. Despite Aerith’s friendliness, she still had an undercurrent of wariness towards Tseng, ever since he had first come to her house. Tseng could hardly blame her.

Aerith chewed her thumb, all sulky teenager. “But…. I don’t love you,” she replied.

_But maybe you might grow to,_ Tseng thought. She was too young for him to really look at her in… that way… but he felt… protective of heart least. Surely she must know that. He could use his power to keep her out of the worst of Shinra’s clutches – he could do a t least that much. And it would save him from having to make the decision he didn’t want to.

President Shinra would not be in power forever. And the day would come when Rufus, far smarter, took over. That was where Tseng had thrown in his loyalty. He was gambling he could keep Aerith safe until President Shinra died, and Rufus would be more amenable to cooperation.

He turned to Aerith. “Aerith… I would be good to you. I promise you I won’t touch you until you want me to.”

Aerith couldn’t bring herself to the idea. She was thinking of flowers and love. Tseng was thinking of practicalities.

In many ways, he was racing against time.

He was running out of time…


	8. 1997-0000

Zack was a country boy. But he’d never intended for that to be ALL he was. Of all the things in his hometown, it had always been the reactor that had fascinated him the most. Every chance he’d get to explore, he’d make the trek to the outskirts of town and beyond, to the hulking mass of technology, so different from Gongaga’s tropical forests and desert landscape, and wonder. About what it was and where it had come from.

People said all of Midgar looked like that. They said it with scorn, speaking of walls of black metal and grey concrete, smoke and fire billowing into the sky. Zack was fascinated. _A whole city, just like that?_ They spoke of it being so crowded with people that you could barely move. Zack could only think of how many more people that meant there was to meet.

Every story that might have chased him away, only intrigued him more.

He was nine when he learned there WAS a way for him to get there. Even in a backwater (even then, Zack was old enough to know what a backwater was, and that Gongaga was one), there was news, and that’s how he first learned the names. SOLDIER. The elite fighting force of ShinRa. There was war in someplace called Wutai – Zack hadn’t heard much from the west, that was WAY too far for the average Gongaga to concern themselves with – but war made heroes. Sephiroth. The ultimate SOLDIER, it was said, and there were a hundred rumors about how or why or even WHAT he was. Hero. Demon. Monster.

Zack supposed it all depended on the way you wanted to see it.

He had started making plans before he’d even been fully aware that he’d made his decision. He was pretty sure he had what it took. He’d always been the tallest kid in the village, the fastest, the strongest. Even when he was eleven and girls started growing up faster than boys, he was STILL taller than all of them. And then he started shooting up like a prong flower himself, until his mother teased him about whether he ever was going to stop. A black-haired, brown-eyed, six-foot-three block of lean muscle.

He had to take care with his strength. Other guys would try to pick fights with him; Zack knew he could take them on easily, and possibly hurt them seriously. He endured a certain amount of name calling for refusing, but he knew he was doing the right thing. There was no honor in beating the weak for its own sake. Not the sort of thing a hero would do.

Thirteen years old, and the opportunity came. Recruitment teams, passing through. Zack signed before he even thought to ask his parents, realizing later they hadn’t asked for his age. (Later, he learned that’s because there wasn’t a minimum, and until much later, it didn’t occur to him to wonder why.)

Things moved fast from there. His parents were reluctant, but didn’t have much choice. They bundled him off with their goodbyes and love, and Zack was on his way to the city of his dreams.

SOLDIER was a breeze. At least to start. Zack was snapped right up for Third Class, passing all the physical tests with flying colors. Physical prowess was apparently the only requirement for that initial step. It wasn’t until he was officially admitted that he learned the big steps came later.

_Mako injections._ The words gave him a shiver. Mako, the same stuff that came out of that reactor back home? And they were going to _inject_ it into him?

“It’s the step you’ve gotta take to be Second Class,” his fellow candidates told him. “That’s what REALLY makes you a SOLDIER.”

Third Classes, he found, were mostly just naturally strong regular troops, those likely to be able to tolerate the eventual Mako injections and modifications that came with them. Well, enhancements, really. Actually, once he really learned what the results were, they didn’t sound all that bad. More speed. More strength. Enhanced senses. Essentially, a whole lot _more_ of what Zack already had in spades. He supposed he could handle it.

Then after that, the goal was to make First. _What did that take_ , Zack wondered? Answers were mixed on that regard. There were only a few dozen who hit that level – enough that they didn’t all know each other, but small enough that they were still considered an elite group, compared to the thousands that made up the regular army. A “best of the best”, thing, that was sure, but it seemed to be something MORE they were looking for, and no one was precisely sure what. Because the decisions weren’t made by any one standard. The decisions were made by the ones some referred to as the “Firsts of the Firsts,” names spoken in reverence, but only one he recognized: _Sephiroth_.

“So all I’ve gotta do is meet Sephiroth, huh?” he asked his friends.

“Good luck, buddy,” was the sarcastic answer he got.

Fifteen years old, and he was approved for Second Class. Apparently that rise was meteoric. Zack didn’t exactly have much to compare it to. Excited as he was for the promotion, the upcoming enhancements still made him afraid. He approached the day with trepidation, forcing himself to calm as they put him under, and –

\- he woke up, feeling great. Lighter, more fluid. He flexed an arm expectantly in front of his face; it didn’t LOOK any different, but he felt like he could lift a house.

He’d been warned of some of the possible side effects, but the real surprise was when they brought him a mirror. He startled himself, looking into a pair of eyes that were – BLUE. Like, REALLY blue. Zack allowed himself a few minutes of narcissistic fascination with the change.

“Mostly it means the Mako took well,” the doctor, a kind older lady, told him. “But everyone’s a little different. Yours are bluer than most that I’ve seen. We don’t entirely understand the biochemistry, but it could be somewhere in the genes too. Are there blue eyes in your family?”

“My dad has blue eyes,” he told her. “Only not quite this bright, obviously.”

“Well, that could be it. Localized deactivation of the gene. The eye color gene is located near a number of other genes the Mako procedure is known to modify. We don’t know yet how thoroughly the gene is altered, if it’s uniform throughout the body. It seems to be a harmless effect, however. Purely cosmetic.”

Zack thought about that. “Do you think chicks will like it?” he asked, giving the woman (three times his age) his best winning smile. She laughed. “I would think so,” she told him, “especially if you combine it with that charm.”

Girls DID like it, as it turned out. Especially in combination with his rank and SOLDIER uniform. He’d had a decent amount of dates before, but now… Offers were just _flowing_ in. Zack had exceeded the boundaries of what he knew about how to deal with girls. Should he accept all the offers so that no one felt rejected? Or should he be more judicious, so he didn’t lead anyone on? In the end, he started out by splitting the difference, blinding fumbling his way through the intricacies of the opposite sex.

Which, he realized, was the only real way to learn. _Practice._

He was an avid student. He couldn’t help it, he simply _liked_ women. Easier company than guys, once he got the hang of it. Previous experience had been limited to a couple fumbling encounters, but now he was getting a proper initiation into the treatment of the female body.

The other guys were _so_ jealous.

“You don’t have to try so hard to be a ladies’ man”, one women (this one a TRUE woman, twenty-eight, not just a girl) told him. It hadn’t occurred to Zack that he was TRYING to be anything. Was that really the impression he was giving off?

He dated around, yes, but that wasn’t any particular agenda. He just hadn’t found anyone who really touched his heart… He didn’t have a particularly defined notion of what that was supposed to feel like. Everyone just kind of told him it was something you _knew._ He DIDN’T know yet – but he thought he might like to find out.

In the meantime, there was training. He’d get sent out on the odd little mission, first your basic monster cleaning exercise – a Mako side effect, Midgar being the only city with a regular population of monsters WITHIN its limits – but gradually, he was sent out a little further afield.

Still, it was in the 49th floor training room that, with a group of comrades, he one day noticed a First Class looking in. He tried to focus on the task at hand like he was supposed to, but over the next hour, he couldn’t help feeling that the man had been particularly focused on HIM.

“Dude, you know who that was?” another Second told him when he mentioned it. “ANGEAL HEWLEY. For real, you don’t know who he is?”

“Never heard of him,” Zack admitted.

“He’s one of like, the really important ones. Like, friends with Sephiroth and stuff.”

Kunsel was his best friend during these times, and the man gave a much more thorough answer. “There’s three of them. The third is Genesis Rhapsodos,” he told Zack. “There’s something supposed to be special about them. I heard it was the Mako injections they got. Still experimental at the time, not perfected yet. Not the stuff they give us. Seems it gave them extra-enhanced abilities.”

“So why don’t we all get that?” Zack asked.

“Unpredictable side effects. Weak at first, but the results were inconclusive. Jury’s still out on whether anything will show up in those three later. So ShinRa went for quantity over quality and scaled the doses way back in order to successfully administer them to a greater number of candidates.” He waved an arm to take in his small, serviceable Second Class apartment. “And here we are, Zack.”

_Unpredictable side effects._ Hey, blue eyes were pretty cool, but Zack didn’t want to risk greater changes, that was for sure. “How do you know all this stuff, anyway?” he asked Kunsel.

“I pay attention.” The other man shrugged. “Keep my ears and eyes open. Read whatever scraps of information pass my way.”

“Sure you shouldn’t have been a Turk?” was Zack’s response.

But Kunsel’s information proved valuable, especially when Angeal approached him some days later.

“I’ve been watching you,” the man began, as Zack tried not to look too star-struck. “You’re Zack Fair, right? Second Class?”

“Yes sir,” Zack stuttered.

“I’ve been thinking of taking you under my wing,” Angeal told him.

Zack could barely contain his excitement.

It was more than just combat he was learning from his new mentor. Angeal talked a lot about pride and dreams.

“But I just want to be a hero,” Zack told Angeal.

“They’re the same thing,” Angeal insisted.

Zack had thought being a hero meant being a poster boy like Sephiroth, but it seemed Angeal was right. He DID have a lot to learn.

Fortunately, he had a mentor ready to guide him through that.

And then one day, on a mission across the world in Wutai, his mentor abandoned him – and Zack’s world changed forever.


	9. April 0001-June 0001

MIDGAR.

Cloud had made it here, but not much further.

_As the train chugged down mountainous terrain into flatlands where Cloud had never been, he gazed out the window but his thoughts were already far, far ahead. A whole new life – no longer the friendless loser, in the city he would be able to do anything, be anything he wanted. He’d show them back home. But it was the afterimage of Tifa’s face that truly filled his mind’s eye._

He’d thought it would be so easy – walk in, declare himself for SOLDIER, get on track, and soon enough, he’d be en route to heroism and fame. But… it hadn’t worked out quite like that.

At home, he had the luxury of seeing himself as something special. Something _apart_ , at least, but something different, even if only in his own head. Here… he was one among many. Thousands. And he hardly the only one aiming high.

He’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Sephiroth; hell, he’d entertained the idea of meeting the man, maybe even being buddies. But the closest he saw were posters, newspapers, merchandise, all of it carrying the General’s ubiquitous image. (He even found coffee mugs. And very nearly bought one.) The war in Wutai was still in full swing, and Sephiroth, it seemed, was not to be seen in Midgar at all. Nor was he expected back any time soon.

Cloud was no longer the weakling he once had been, but he was far still from the physical strength expected for SOLDIER; and he was still smarting from his flop on the mental exam. Instead, he was steered towards the army, to “toughen him up” as he was told; and he accepted it with reluctant grace, hoping at least this was the first step, miffed as his dreams receded further into the distance. Sure enough, the diet and training regimen, plus the rapid growth spurt that had started right before he left, were filling him out. His were now the proportions of a young, athletic man, boy no longer.

At the same time, though, he found himself temperamentally unsuited for the realities of army life. He didn’t even have the OPTION of lone-wolf status here, obliged to obey superiors Taking orders did not come naturally to him, but that was who he was now. A nobody. Just another grunt in Shinra’s machine.

He’d see OTHER Firsts though, and it occurred to him that perhaps that was something to aspire too as well. They were… impressive… to his eyes, and he was grateful to the helmet sometimes that would let him stare. Even so, he thought maybe he should be more circumspect, after, on an errand into the Shinra building, he nearly crashed into one – a tall, blue-eyed man only a bare handful of years older than he himself. Maybe that was more of the role model he should take for himself.

His attitude meant he wasn’t particularly making friends in the barracks. Truthfully, he didn’t even try,. The guys were the same old shit he knew from back home, idiots all. Few in his squad had much ambition beyond – earn some pay, go smoke some loco weed, drink some beer. Didn’t talk about anything but music, girls, and all the girls they were going to get when they got into SOLDIER. And presumably the music they would listen to while getting those girls. Cloud had already stopped listening by that point.

What was most pathetic is most of these guys had girls faithfully waiting for them back at home, yet that didn’t stop them from taking whatever piece of ass they came across. Cloud wasn’t blind. He knew there were pretty girls, many more than there had ever been in Nibelheim. A time or two, one of the other guys had tried to push him towards one or the other of those, but the only real difference between these and the girls back home, was the guys told him he’d have half a chance.

Besides - he still only wanted one girl. And if she was ever his… he would respect her, cherish her. He’d never treat her like that, not in a hundred years.

Devoid of the outdoors adventures available to him back in Nibelheim, when he wasn’t training, he was reading instead. Adventure stories, mostly. Escapism. One way or the other, he immersed himself in the possibilities he hoped would soon be opening up to him.

And then there were the stories he made up for himself.

He wondered what Tifa looked like now. The curves that had been drawing the boys’ attention had been getting more pronounced before he left, and (he was slightly abashed to admit) filling his eyes as well. He wondered if he was crass for thinking about her that way, the way he’d always hated in other guys. Did that mean he didn’t love her?

But at night, when the day’s activities were done, that was what his thoughts kept drifting back to.

He always started out the same. Somewhere on Mt. Nibel, he’d come across Tifa, being threatened by a dragon. (Every once in a while, he made it something smaller, but dragons always seemed best.) She’d be calling out for help, and lo and behold, there he would be, sword in hand (it was so much cooler to kill a dragon with a sword, anyhow he wasn’t sure if a gun could do any real damage, not on NIBEL dragons at least, which everyone knew were like the toughest in the world), and he’d kill the dragon while an admiring Tifa looked on.

Cloud killed a lot of dragons in those months.

In any case, he always rushed through that first part to get to the part he really wanted to think about. That was the part where Tifa said she wanted to give him a reward, and started taking off her clothes. Sometimes, just to mix it up, she would ask him what he wanted for a reward, and he would ask her to take off her clothes.

In their health seminar, he’d heard it called “ _sexual relations_ ”. He definitely wanted to have _sexual relations_ with Tifa Lockhart.

At first, he had trouble figuring out what happened after the clothes came off. What did she look like, for one? He’d seen some pictures, but they weren’t all the same. What size were her breasts now? Shape? The color of her nipples? He tried various combinations in his head, revisiting the ones he liked the best. What did she look like between her legs? Just the very THOUGHT that Tifa might have those parts was enough to get him hard…

Then, what to do with those parts? He had only the basic idea down. That’s when he finally started listening to those other assholes.

He’d hear them talking about playing with boobs. A lot. That seemed to be the first part of the process. (In his fantasies, he usually remembered to kiss her first, though often not until she had already taken off her clothes.) Right. Then, he’d hear how the other guys “gave it to her good”, “she took it really hard”, “pounded the shit out of her”, and a hundred other variants. So… that was what he was supposed to do? Squeeze her breasts a bunch and then ram himself in really hard? Yeah, that sounded pretty good. And then she would, as one meathead put it, “come like the Midgar Express Train”?

And what did THAT mean? He could understand the pleasure part well enough, release, but how did that work for a girl? After all, they didn’t have the same parts to do the same things. Then he got very worried hearing one guy bitching about how “some girls just fake it”. It hadn’t occurred to him there was a way it could be faked. How could he tell for sure? Well, one thing he was going to make sure of, if he ever got the chance, Tifa would never have to “fake it”. He would pound her as hard as he needed to make sure that didn’t happen.

The motion seemed pretty straightforward. Not like there were a lot of directions to go in, other than in and out. But… what would it FEEL like? Warm, probably just like his hands. He heard descriptions like “smooth as silk”. He couldn’t find a silk handkerchief, so he scrounged up a cotton one. That didn’t feel good at all – he ended up just feeling chafed. Then he heard another doofus talk about how good it was “because she was just slippery wet.” So he soaked the cotton handkerchief. It just chafed more, plus it got cold besides.

Then, he noticed next to one guy’s bed, a jar of some gooey substance. He waited until no one was in that part of the barracks, then on a hunch, scooped a globule of it out and…

WHOA. That was MUCH better. He really hoped that was what it felt like.

It was a few months before he became at least chummy enough with the other troops to find out they had… pictures. Of women. Though he found himself always placing Tifa’s sweet face above the woman’s body, and taking that image with him to fight the dragons that night.

And even more importantly, pictures of women DOING things. Some of those things hadn’t occurred to him before. _Women would actually put their mouth THERE???_ he thought in surprise. His body instantly registered that it very much liked that idea, but… did that really HAPPEN? Did women LIKE doing it?

Nevertheless, that night, over yet another bloodied imaginary dragon corpse (had he really killed this many dragons, the mountain would have long been cleaned out), the hero asked for a different reward from the damsel.

*******

Training paid off in the end. He must have distinguished himself somehow, when he found himself assigned to be part of a guard squad for a very important scientist. A _woman_ scientist, he learned, and all the chivalry his mother had ever instilled in him rose to the surface.

_If there was one thing Claudia Strauss ever taught her son, it was how to treat women_ , Cloud thought with pride. He looked forward to eventually telling his mother about this day.

It wasn’t until the last minute that he learned the true value of the doctor they were escorting. She was transporting a very valuable data disk, sought after by a group of rebels (their name on everyone’s breath) trying to topple Shinra, which carried all the information about the SOLDIER program. Cloud’s mouth practically salivated with the excitement, the intrigue. It was like one of his adventure stories come to life. Now THIS was more of what he had hoped to do by coming to Shinra. He had hopes. Perhaps this was his chance to shine, to rise above being just another nameless soldier.

But he snapped off that line of daydreaming. First, there was work to do.

Waiting at the train station with the squad, a small young woman in a black suit approached. _Was this the doctor, then?_ He didn’t think scientists wore black suits, but then again, this was Midgar, who knew.

Then again, he was pretty sure scientists did NOT carry weapons like the large shuriken she carried strapped to her back.

“Who’s she?” he whispered to the grunt next to him.

“Her? She’s one of the _Turks_ ,” the other man replied, in a tone that suggested Cloud was an absolute idiot for not knowing that. He turned to the young woman – _Turk_ , Cloud corrected. “Hey, Cissnei. Long time no see.”

“Likewise,” Cissnei answered. Golden- brown eyes sparkled under curled auburn hair, the only color to break up the monotony of her uniform.

They were waiting at the train station (Cloud had learned very quickly the army was about a lot of waiting) and…

“AVALANCHE!” he heard the shout, and everything was a blur after that.

He found himself side by side with Cissnei. “You, stay out of the way,” she told him.

“No way,” he replied grimly, pleasurable adrenaline flooding his system. “I was assigned to this, and I’ll see it through. And my name is _Cloud_.”

His fellow grunts, dropping, Cissnei shouting at him, _save the disk, save the disk_ , and he was backed up against Dr. Rayleigh, fear now showing in the woman’s eyes. He reached for his rifle, finding it gone – when had he even _fired_ it? – and he grabbed a sword from a fallen comrade…

Something clicked within him, and he _swung_. It felt natural somehow in a way the rifle never had, like an extension of his own body, and the rebels were upon them and he was fighting, fighting -

He was breathing deeply, and he was startled to realize that all his opponents were defeated or escaped.

Without thinking twice, he grabbed Dr. Rayleigh by the wrist, and he _ran_ , ran until he found a place he could defend –

“Cloud!” He heard Cissnei’s voice, half-out of breath as she came running to join them. “The disk – “

“You’re too late. It’s already gone,” he said curtly.

Cissnei only glared. “Didn’t you hear me calling earlier? Our orders were to save the disk above anything!”

Cloud felt Dr. Rayleigh shrink behind him; he shifted slightly sideways, putting his body fully between the two women. Cissnei glared angrily. “Hell no. Those were your orders, not mine.”

“So you lost the data disk? What were you doing, showing off?” Cissnei met him eye-to-eye.

Cloud blinked in surprise. Of all the responses he had expected… derision was the least. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. This was the first test, not a test from Shinra, but a real test of character. He’d never been put in this position before. He’d been asked to take responsibility, gotten the job done, and been met with a less-than-enthusiastic response. How would he respond?

He was surprised to find how calm and proud his voice sounded. “No. I was being a soldier.”

Cissnei flinched, but afterwards… could that be a bit of grudging respect in her eyes?

A crash in the distance broke the moment. “They’re coming! Quick, I know a way out – “

\- and they were running away again, top speed this time, until a train came into view. “This way!” Cissnei called, and they stumbled on, bare seconds before the train began to pull away from the station. Cloud wondered if it had started to move before they even jumped on, but no matter, they were safe.

Suddenly exhausted, he slumped against the wall of the carriage, half closing his eyes. Something heavy tumbled into his lap. He realized with a start he had forgotten the sword he’d picked up in the chaos. Lifting it to his eyes, he looked it over. Nothing fancy, just a serviceable, standard issue Shinra blade, but today it had been something so much more.

Exhausted, he was only too glad to sink back into anonymity as they arrived and Shinra executives arrived to take away and debrief Dr. Rayleigh. Meanwhile, Cissnei picked up a phone call, then turned to where a Wutaian man in a near-identical suit was approaching. But before she had made it more than a few steps away, she stopped as if remembering something, and turned to him.

“Farewell,” she said. “Future SOLDIER Cloud.”

The crowd melted away to leave Cloud on the platform with nothing but the sword for company, wondering if perhaps he was closer to his dreams than he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write.
> 
> And yes, I’m using Cissnei. I didn’t want to create a whole new character, so she’ll make appearances when I need various Turk-like things done. Other than that, there’s no particular significance to the choice.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I should have another chapter ready by the end of the week. The characters let me know when they’re ready.


	10. January 0001-April 0001

Zack had nothing left of Angeal but teachings and memories, times when he had been able to make Angeal smile just a little. Barely remembered, it seemed. “Heroes are chosen by the media, and Shinra controls the media,” Kunsel had reminded him. All the attention was on Sephiroth, deemed the “hero of Wutai”, despite the man not seeming to care less.

Kunsel had once called Angeal “the spiritual leader of SOLDIER”. He savored each lesson now, knowing there would be no more, remembering the words of his mentor, now seeing how he was trying to shape a young, overenthusiastic man into something more mature, more refined. Zack wished he had been more malleable now.

_Find the right zone in your mind._

SOLDIERS were taught to call upon their past experiences, previous emotions for strength. When he’d been taught that, Zack had wondered. If that was the true strength of a SOLDIER, then why did they need the mako injections?

He’d voiced his concerns, and been told the mako joined them to the Lifestream and facilitated the connection. Made sense, he supposed, but he wondered if that was all there was to it.

_Your true power has yet to be released._

What Angeal called honor – wasn’t that just a fancy name for friendship and love making you stronger? Zack valued the people in his life above all else. Even above being a hero. Wasn’t that what made a person who they were? He’d been in Midgar nearly a year, and he was friendly to everyone, popular and well-liked in the department. But he still felt a little bereft. Kunsel was his closest friend. It was those closer-to-the-heart connections that he was craving, and Angeal had been the only one who qualified – Sephiroth perhaps a distant second – making the loss of his mentor all the more poignant.

Who would he meet to fill that space?

******

Tseng did not like puppies.

They were noisy, messy, and impossible to keep track of. Pure disorder, a slap in the face to his entire concept of pristine organization.

Nevertheless, there was something undeniably appealing about Zack Fair.

Veld had ordered Tseng on this mission to Banora in part to take the measure of the man. With Genesis and Angeal missing, there was a void of leadership at the top. And in an unprecedented step, Sephiroth himself – Sephiroth, who ordinarily couldn’t care less about the internal politics of the department – had himself recommended pushing Zack up to First, even suggesting Zack for this mission after he himself refused to go. On the end of Angeal’s own recommendation, that was saying quite a lot for the young man with him.

Tseng could have recited the basics in his sleep. _Age 16, 6’3”, hometown Gongaga._ He also knew of Angeal’s assessment. _Enthusiastic, honest, humble._ But any Turk worth his salt knew that there was no substitute for direct surveillance of the target. Secondhand observation provided a start, but could only get you so far. Knowledge was power.

So far, this is what he knew.

Zack appeared flippant and flamboyant on the outside, dispatching monsters with a casual “later!”, but underneath that veneer, there was a solid core. Tseng knew enough of swordsmanship to recognize a near-master when he saw one. He’d made the observation through the years that there was a certain type that naturally gravitated to the weapon, visible in the way they merged with it, the blade becoming an extension of their own body. This, coupled with Angeal’s tutelage, was visible in the fluid way Zack moved. Direct. Sure. Not an ounce of wasted motion.

Suffice to say, Tseng was impressed.

But did Zack Fair really have the leadership qualities for the position Sephiroth seemed to be grooming him for? At the same time as they fought their way towards Genesis’s location, a practiced sixth sense was taking notes. And that’s where things got interesting.

“SOLDIERs are glorified monsters,” Tseng had told him, as they observed the factory where Genesis was hiding. “The process that forms them is much the same.”

“SOLDIERs _can’t_ be the same as monsters,” Zack had argued. “It’s what’s inside that counts. Not what was done to them in a lab.”

Zack was an idealist. Trying to bring Angeal, Genesis back into the Shinra fold. Tseng could hardly fault him for wanting to save his mentor, but Genesis as well? Even after finding out the renegade SOLDIER had killed his own parents and members of the Turks as well? For his part, Tseng expected this to be little more than a confirmation mission that the two were truly AWOL, so they could get on with having those two declared KIA and get on with saving face. Rufus was scheduled to finally return as Vice President; Tseng knew the young man would insist on no loose ends.

How would Zack react when he found out the village was to be destroyed?

Did that idealism have any place in Shinra? It made Tseng feel remarkably jaded. Zack’s idealism reminded him of Aerith and her response to his… unusual… proposal. He wondered if idealism had a chance anywhere. Regardless, Zack was someone men would follow.

SOLDIERS might be monsters. Genesis certainly was. Angeal was getting there. But Zack Fair still carried a very human heart.

*******

_Genesis Rhapsodos, Killed in Action_

_Angeal Hewley, Killed in Action_

No matter how many times Zack read the email, it said nothing different.

_Who are they kidding?_ he thought. _Wasn’t the purpose of going to Banora to bring them back?_ He’d hoped with the Wutai War ending, things would settle down, and somehow naively connected that to Angeal’s return, as if one had anything to do with the other. In his excitement at making SOLDIER, wanting to become a hero, he had forgotten one crucial detail. He worked for a corporation. A corporation that could be ruthlessly efficient in pursuit of its objectives. Banora’s destruction proved that.

The city lights blinked fifty floors below; the slums lay another several hundred feet below that. He stared out at the massive Reactor #5, one of the eight making it all possible. The Shinra building slated to be finished the next year; the city itself, by 007. All this carved onto the skeletons of villages and towns by mako, the same stuff that they had flooded into his veins. What did that make him?

Were SOLDIERs really monsters after all?

The ringing of his PHS interrupted his brooding thoughts. “Come to Lazard’s office,” Sephiroth’s voice said, and hung up.

Sephiroth was there to greet him with Lazard. “Congratulations,” the Director told him. “You are hereby officially promoted to First Class.”

Zack just stood there for a moment. “Oh,” he finally said.

“Oh?” Lazard chuckled. It seemed forced. “Young man, I thought you wanted to be a hero? This is your chance.”

“Sorry,” Zack muttered. “It’s just… not quite what I expected.”

“Perhaps it will meet your expectations soon enough,” Sephiroth finally spoke. “You and I will be leaving shortly to look for Angeal and Genesis.”

Zack turned to glare at the Silver General. “You mean ‘Killed-in-Action’ Angeal and Genesis?” he challenged. Sephiroth _harrumphed_.

Zack eyed Sephiroth. The three Firsts had been the top of the heap, and though Sephiroth was the “first among firsts”, now he was the only one who was left. He mulled for a moment, considering the different ways to be a hero. For Angeal, it was honor. For Genesis, it was jealousy. Sephiroth had been more or less forced into it, called by duty – did he ever find himself resenting his position?

He was still thinking about heroes as he changed into his new uniform, barely noticing the black that had once seemed so unattainable. He’d told Lazard, months ago, that he wanted to be a hero – but still smarting from Angeal’s loss, what kind of hero did he want to be? Sephiroth seemed almost more sympathetic to Genesis’s reasons than Angeal’s, as if Angeal was merely being self-righteous. Zack could have told him Angeal meant it from the heart. Was that self-serving in his own way?

On the way back, Zack passed Hojo in the hallway. The scientist had been the one to perfect the protocol to make next-generation SOLDIERs, the technique that made Zack who he was now. And every time Hojo saw him, the man seemed to be sizing him up, as if evaluating the progress of his work. The thought gave Zack shivers…

*******

He’d been waiting for this since Banora.

No, before. Since Wutai.

Somehow, he knew that Angeal would eventually return to Midgar, and he would finally have the chance to get some answers.

Still, Zack was speechless as he stared at the man who had been hero, mentor, friend – and watched a giant white wing unfurl from Angeal’s back.

_Was this the secret he kept hidden?_ Zack wondered. But even so, _was this the man Angeal had become?_ A man, not a monster, Zack reminded himself. No one could convince him otherwise, not even in his heart of hearts, that Angeal was a truly a monster. He didn’t believe it of Genesis himself, much less the man who had done so much to set his path.

But here they were, teetering nearly at the edge of the plate, and it occurred to Zack that perhaps the student had become the teacher. It was time to show Angeal how his lessons were taken to heart.

“No,” he said. “I won’t fight you. There would be no honor in that.”

Angeal did not lower his sword, but Zack thought he saw a flicker of doubt across the man’s features.

“Please, Angeal,” he half-begged, appealing to the man he knew was inside. “Show me the wisdom you taught me yourself. I don’t want to have to fight you.”

Angeal drove the Buster Sword downwards, echoes resonating, Zack hearing pride and honor and dreams all dropping to the floor.

Angeal marched forward; Zack pressed his point not with steel, but with words. “You’re no monster, Angeal. Someone told me, wings represent freedom for those who have none. Don’t you want that freedom?” He paused for emphasis. “Those aren’t the wings of a monster. Those are the wings of an angel. Find the right place in your mind, Angeal, you taught me that. Don’t let this happen.”

“An angel, you say?” Angeal half-snarled; and Zack started to wonder how much of the man he once knew was truly left. “If this is the price of freedom… then you can keep it. What I want is to be human again!”

-and suddenly Zack was flung backwards, crashing into grates that collapsed underneath him.

But in his mind, Zack somehow heard Angeal say one last thing.

_It’s for your own good, Zack. Don’t be afraid to fall…_

*******

_…angels… monsters… SOLDIERS and heroes…_

_…how do they all fit together?..._

_…all I want is to help my friends…_

Zack rejoined consciousness with sun in his eyes, and the sounds of an angel’s voice in his ears.

_Where was this place?_

_Am I dead?_ “Heaven?” he asked, groggy.

“Not quite. Church in the slums,” the angel said, amused. Slowly, a pale face filled his vision, surmounted by gold-brown hair, bouncing locks, and he looked into big-blue-green eyes, so bright he could have sworn she had mako eyes herself.

“I’m Aerith,” the music said sweetly.

_Shot through the heart._ Suddenly, the meaning of that expression was plain. He felt a jolt of – _something_ – that he desperately wanted, needed. And just like that, all of his experience with women deserted him, and he was taken back to a goggle-eyed thirteen-year-old experiencing a woman for the first time.

Then again, maybe he was.

She offered a slight hand, but he shook his head, leaping to his feet in one bound, hoping she was watching. He puffed up his chest instinctively, making a point to place his hands on his hips to display his arms to best advantage, and took a moment to drink an eyeful.

She was a slight little thing. Probably a foot shorter than he, but then again, he was a big guy. Perhaps a bit more slender, less curvy than he usually liked, but he had an inkling that in his arms, she would fit just right. From her high-braided hair to her wedged sandals, there was something achingly, intoxicatingly _feminine_ about her, that reached to Zack deep within. Right at the barest cusp where she could officially be called a woman.

He had to keep her attention somehow. _Compliments. Women like compliments._ He searched around frantically for something. Wait, weren’t those –

“Those are beautiful flowers,” he said.

Aerith beamed. _Jackpot_. “You like them?” she replied. “I grew them.”

“Love them,” he answered. Confidence was slowly coming back, along with his brain. “How do you grow flowers in Midgar, anyway?” He realized how far he had come from Gongaga, from lush nature to a world of grey giants of concrete and steel, where a simple flower was cause for celebration.

Aerith knelt down, brushing the petals of one with soft tenderness, and Zack felt his skin give an electric shiver. “They… only grow here,” she said awkwardly, and Zack wondered if there was more that she wasn’t letting on. “Well, I was able to grow them at my house, too. You see, they only really like to be tended by me.” She looked up flirtatiously. “They broke your fall, you know. You really owe them a thank you.”

_Fall, huh?_ That last hint of Angeal’s voice and what she had first said finally began to congeal in his scrambled brain. _I fell… from the plate?_ Anyone not SOLDIER would be dead, unless those flowers had some special power. Then again, maybe they did… “Well, I can’t really thank the flowers, but maybe I can thank _you_ ,” he told her, putting his most winning smile on his face. “You know, I’ve never actually been to the slums before. How about… one date? You can show me around.”

“Oh, you won’t like it,” Aerith demurred. “It’s really cluttered.”

“Then I’ll feel right at home,” he told her. “Come on, just one, huh? I don’t even know how to get back up to the plate. You’ve got to get me at least that far,” he half-pleaded. Then he realized something stupid. “I haven’t even told you my name. It’s Zack.”

Aerith looked at Zack appraisingly. A fighter, for sure, but the slums were something different, seedier. Sneakier. They could easily eat this guy alive. Yet there was something about him that felt so absolutely safe. She’d never learned to fight; here he was, a big, strong, protector. And he was making an absolute fool out of himself, just to spend some time with her.

She thought she had never met anyone so… _silly_ … in her life. She had no knowledge of love, but maybe, just maybe… could this be something?

There was nothing to do but agree.

Zack smirked inwardly. _Still got it_. He’d be back to Shinra soon enough. In the meantime… Spending the day with a beautiful woman. He’d do anything she liked, as long as she didn’t want to go shoppi-

_Oh shit._

Well, he guessed he’d do anything she liked.

It was clear Aerith knew everyone in the neighborhood, and they her; talking with one man who had some items from a traveler in Kalm, another who specialized in unusual materia. Zack looked at that with interest; there were a couple that didn’t seem to be in the regular Shinra roster. He had to endure some good-natured ribbing as to his prospects with Aerith, the embarrassment only mollified by the generally encouraging response. Zack idly wondered if she had lived in the slums all her life.

“How do you live without seeing the sky?” In the distance, the horizon was visible, but up above was nothing but the omnipresent plate. Zack shuddered. Living on top, he hadn’t realized how oppressive that thing could be.

She trembled visibly, and he immediately regretted the question. “I hate the sky,” she admitted, balling up her little hands into fists. “It frightens me.”

_How could anyone be frightened of the sky?_ Maybe one day… “I could take you,” he impulsively suggested. “It wouldn’t be frightening if we go together, right? It’s beautiful. Not scary at all.”

After a moment, she nodded, and Zack resisted the urge to pump his fist. _Score!_ And right after that he realized another thing. _She just agreed to see me again!_

He was mentally patting himself on the back, when he noticed she had wandered off again, looking at a display of… something.

He ambled over by her side, to where Aerith was fingering a display of brightly covered ribbons. _Huh. Such a small thing to bring some color in, and yet…_ The ribbons reminded him of Aerith herself, a bright flower in a world of darkness. On a whim, he reached forward.

“This one,” he touched the pink bow. “I think it suits you.”

“You really think so?” Those mysterious, deep liquid eyes.

“Sure!” he enthused. “I’ll buy it for you – on one condition.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“If you wear it, whenever you come to see me,” he said; and suddenly his heart was in his throat.

She looked at him for a long moment, searching somehow. “I’ll never take it off,” she finally said.

Butterflies were in his stomach as he paid for the purchase, and she turned to let him tie it in. His fingertips brushed her neck, her shoulders, her skin just as soft as he had imagined, and he reveled in the small intimacy of the act as he tied it into her hair, giving it just enough of a tug to keep it secure.

She wheeled back around, putting her new accessory. “How do I look?”

Zack just found himself staring, without knowing why. “Beautiful,” he said softly; and she smiled.

He could drink in those eyes forever. He was wondering if it might be too forward if he reached out and… “Let’s go to the park!” she suddenly exclaimed.

She had already half-scampered away when his shoulders slumped.

At least the park offered a little more peace than the bustle of the marketplace. He took a deep breath of the muggy air, realizing how claustrophobic he was starting to feel. The air above the plate wasn’t the cleanest, either, but at least it _moved_. How could Aerith stand it?

“Zack?” interrupted his thoughts, and he realized she had said something.

“Huh?” he replied.

“I was asking if you’ve ever met anyone from SOLDIER. I thought maybe you would know some, since you’re a fighter too.” Aerith swallowed. “They’re… strange. They… LIKE to fight. Is that normal?”

Zack gulped. What if she didn’t like – He’d just assumed she would see him as some kind of hero. Foolish. He could - No, what else was there to do? Lie? The thought of what Angeal would say gave him courage. _Gotta come clean right away, then. If she gets scared off –_

“Actually,” he said, wondering why he was suddenly more frightened of this woman than any monster he’d had to face, “I’m… a SOLDIER.”

“Oh!” Aerith slapped her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Suddenly she found herself seeing Zack in a whole new light… no, not Zack. He was exactly the same, a sweet, honest doofus. It was SOLDIER she was suddenly thinking of differently. If they were like him, maybe they weren’t as bad as she had thought?

“I never would have guessed,” she admitted.

“It’s the eyes,” Zack murmured almost apologetically. “That’s how you can tell. It’s from the mako they give us.” Suddenly, he was all smiles again. “Hey… you want to take a closer look?”

She did. “So pretty,” she said, and wondered if he even realized that he blushed. She leaned in closer, anticipating. Not her first kiss, and yet…

Zack was more and more pleased with the way this day – this _date_ – was going. Aerith leaned in, receptive, so close he could feel her warmth. He reached one hand towards her face…

RING! RING!

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_

“Hello?” Zack didn’t even bother to hide his irritation, even with Sephiroth, until the word “Genesis” was heard; he slammed the phone shut, as reality came crashing back in.

“Aerith,” he said reluctantly. “Speaking of. That was SOLDIER. There’s trouble. I… have to go.”

“Oh.” She paused, “I guess I should get going then.” She took a few hesitant steps. “Will I… see you again?”

She expected a joke, but to her surprised, he looked long and soft at her. “Of course,” he told her. “That’s a promise.”

She turned away with a smile on her face; and it left Zack half-floating on his trip back up to the plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go in the first chapter (“Instruction Booklet”), but I forgot, so it goes here. You may notice that The Zack/Aerith date is the same, only not. Writing ingame dialogue… is not what I am here to do. Ugh. But even though this is not, strictly speaking, a novelization, there will be some conversations (**cough cough Advent Children cough**) important enough to be used verbatim, or only very slightly paraphrased.


	11. April 0001-April 0002

Solitude was Tifa’s new closest companion. With Cloud’s departure, the last person she was willing to call a friend was gone, leaving her with only the erratic attentions of her father to break the routine.

She thought about Cloud a lot.

What had possessed her to make the promise she had? Emotions of a desperate girl, feeling pained that there was no one left to pay her attention? She didn’t think she was… _quite_ so selfish. No, she remembered feeling genuinely scared and sad when he told her, prompting a panicked request from loneliness inside.

What had really surprised her was his acceptance of her request, that he would commit himself to her in that way. It touched her heart in a way she hadn’t’ expected, a gentle flutter brushing her ribs. What did that mean, really?

Did she have a crush on Cloud? _Probably_.

Did she feel something... more?

Maybe.

She wished she’d have a chance to find out.

In the meantime, ennui filled her days. It might have been different if she had lived on one of the outlying farms and had chores from sunup to sundown to keep her occupied. But nooooooo, she was a pampered mayor’s daughter, such things were not for her. She wondered if she should go find a cow to milk just-because.

Instead, she filled long hours at the piano, plucking out a mournful tune, spilling her stymied hopes and dreams into the keys before her.

That’s when _he_ came to town.

*******

She’d been climbing trees when she first saw him.

A young man, spry of step, climbing the road up to the village like it was nothing. As he drew closer, however, she was surprised to see he was, in fact, much older than she had thought.

_How, then, does he move like someone so much younger?_

Fifties, something, she estimated, looking at his weather-beaten face, a moderately shaggy beard in need of a trim. He wore simple, utilitarian clothes, unrestricting in movement, bearing dust of long traveling.

Anyone making it up to Nibelheim would have been traveling for a while.

She’d thought she’d been well hidden in her perch, but to her surprise, the man stopped right underneath. “You might as well come down, young lady,” he said. “I saw you from all the way down the hill.”

Tifa sighed, and dropped to the ground, coming face to face with the man.

He looked her up and down. “You’ve got good form,” he approved. “But what are you doing climbing trees in a _skirt_?”

“It suits me,” she replied defensively. “Anyhow, there’s shorts lined inside. Who are you, anyway? Why are you commenting on my outfit? Oh, and I’m Tifa,” she finished lamely, belatedly remembering her manners.

The man seemed amused. “I’m Zangan,” he replied. “And to your other question, I noticed because that’s part of what I do. I’m a teacher. I teach martial arts.” He looked around. “I’ve got a hundred twenty-seven students all over the world. But this is somewhere I’ve never been yet. Seems like a nice place.”

“Teacher?” Tifa asked. “Like, do you help people join SOLDIER and stuff?”

“Not exactly, though I know a lot about SOLIDIER as it turns out.” Zangan seemed amused. “Why, young lady, are you thinking about joining?”

Tifa thought about that. _Cloud and I, working together_ … “Do they even _allow_ women to join?”

Zangan scratched his beard. “They do… but it doesn’t happen very often,” he began the explanation. “Women… they can usually handle the Mako infusions better. They have the sorts of emotional connections needed for mental fitness. But the physical part of the training is so intense… If they think a man can handle the mental crush of the Mako, they’ll toughen him up physically. Send him to the army for a few years first. But most women, they just can’t get to that level of physical conditioning. It’s just kind of the way it is.” He looked at her appraisingly. “You seem to be a sharp young woman, they’d probably steer you towards the Turks. Less dangerous – most of the time. Pays better too.”

“Oh.” Tifa’s hopes dropped. She wondered how Cloud was handling the physical training – he’d been so tiny as a child. But then suddenly, he started to grow up fast – what did he even look like now?

She was proud of him for trying.

“But, seriously,” Zangan continued. “Why so eager to join Shinra, anyway?”

“I’m not,” Tifa told him. She wasn’t. Really, she had no desire to go to Midgar. She thought of Cloud over there, promised to be her hero – but he was so far… She needed to be able to take care of herself. Take some responsibility, instead of waiting for someone to come save her.

At the very least, she could meet him as an equal.

“I want to learn to fight,” she told him. “I can’t just wait for someone to protect me. I need to be able to protect myself.”

*******

There was just one more obstacle to overcome – her father.

Ever since that fall she couldn’t remember, her father had warned her to stay away from the mountain. She hadn’t listened of course, escaping to scramble over rocks and through bushes whenever she could, the beauty of the mountain’s lower reaches giving her solace.

But Zangan insisted, if he was to teach her.

“You must be strong in both mind and spirit,” he told her. “Think of it as your first test.”

She reminded herself she was no longer a little girl – she was a grown woman, now – but nevertheless, she found herself tongue-tied around her father.

She explained, haltingly, what she wanted to do and why. As she spoke, though, something almost kind of magical happened – she found herself more sure of her words, sure of herself.

Brian turned to Zangan. “Is this the kind of ideas you are putting in my daughter’s head?” he half-snarled.

“Your daughter can think for herself,” Zangan replied smoothly. “Speak to her, not me.”

Tifa noticed Zangan wasn’t saying a word to defend her choice, only to correct her father’s behavior. She took a deep breath.

“Look, Papa,” she continued reasonably. “Zangan knows what he is doing. I’ll be safe.” She turned to Zangan. “It’s okay. I think I can take it from here.”

“I’ll see you soon, Tifa,” Zangan said behind him as he left.

As soon as the other man was out the door, Brian slumped in the chair, burying his head in his hands. He let out a long exhale.

Tifa patiently waited for him to speak.

“Tifa,” he began. “I suppose I knew this day would come. I can’t keep you a little girl forever.”

“I’m not a girl anymore, Papa,” she gently reminded him.

“I know,” he replied, “but sometimes a father wants to pretend.” He swallowed. “And ever since your mother… died… you’ve been all I have left. Not just you, but all I have left of her, too. All my loves rolled into one.”

He stood and paced. “I was so afraid that day, Tifa. The day you fell. I almost lost you I couldn’t have taken it if I did, you were all I was still living for. To lose both of you so close… it would have broken me apart. I guess I’ve wanted to keep you safe ever since. Maybe I’ve been trying too hard.”

Tifa was surprised to see tears in her father’s eyes. “You almost _died_ , Tifa, do you understand that? You were the only thing I had left to live for, and you almost _died_ , too. If you had – “ Choked up, suddenly her big, strong father was openly weeping.

And Tifa realized he was only a man, after all.

_Only a man…_

Brian Lockhart looked at his daughter then, and despite his often-gruff exterior, Tifa recognized the soft-hearted man she knew inside. “Tifa,” he told her gently, “I don’t want to lose you. Remember that. I couldn’t take it. But if that man knows what he’s doing…” He gulped. “Well. I’m willing to let you try.”

Tifa let out a _whoop_ , and threw her arms around her father’s neck with enthusiasm. He hugged her awkwardly back. “Be careful, please,” he half-reminded, half-begged.

“I will,” Tifa said. “I promise.”

And for the chance to try, she would.

*******

Training was… not what Tifa had expected.

“When do I get to fight?” she whined one day.

“Patience,” Zangan told her placidly. “Anyone can throw a few punches. I’m trying to teach you a mentality here.”

He’d have her sit for ten minutes, twenty minutes, an hour – not doing anything, just sitting – and at first it made her skin crawl, itching to be doing something, anything. It was made all the more worse that he left her alone, insisting that solitude, _loneliness_ , was part of the lesson she had to learn. But slowly she started to understand. The longer she sat, the more she became aware of her surroundings – the sounds of the animals large and small, the smells of the forest even to the occasionally-putrid odors coming from the reactor –the air itself, the way it caressed the soft hairs of her skin.

“My feet fall asleep,” she complained once.

“Deal with it,” was Zangan’s answer.

Even when she started something she felt could be called actually fighting, she found it went maddeningly slow. Zangan only let her move inch. By. Painstaking. Inch. Correcting her every motion, to make it more fluid, more direct.

“You’ll rarely have the advantage of strength,” he told her, “so you’ll have to make every bit of advantage you DO have count.”

_I’m bored,_ Tifa started to complain.

This time, she wisely shut up.

He’d warned her that he might not stay a month, maybe two, but as summer rolled into fall, and he was still there, she felt brave enough to ask him why he stayed.

He looked at her sharply. “I like training you,” he told her with unexpected bluntness. “You’ve got good sense. It’s been a rewarding experience.”

“Not my charming company?” Tifa teased her teacher with the easy camaraderie they had developed.

He chuckled. “Maybe a little of that too.” His expression turned grave. “Tifa, you’re an incredible woman with so much potential to do so many things. In all seriousness, I hope you find your way to a wonderful life, one that has meaning for you. And someone who deserves you as well.”

Tifa was touched. No one had said anything like that to her in a long time – well, since her mother died. It was the sort of words that were beyond her father.

It was a measure of the role Zangan was beginning to play in her life.

She was regretting ever complaining of boredom when Zangan finally _did_ start to open her up to fighting, pushing her a little further each day, but always with that infiintesmal correctness. Nothing less than perfection would do. He’d drill her over and over, hours on end. _Once more. Start again. Good, that was better. Now once more. Start again._

“How many times?” Tifa finally cried out in exasperation.

“As many as it takes,” was Zangan’s reply.

She wondered why she was still asking questions.

Her body started to respond, groaning into awakeness as underused muscles were brought into play. Some days, Zangan’s training would leave her trembling and shaking, as she gritted her teeth through the pain to do it _one more time_.

And then she’d be lying in bed, sore and exhausted, wondering what she was doing and why.

Yet somehow it never occurred to her to quit.

Cloud would be so proud of her if he could see her now. It was only him she thought of in this respect. She couldn’t see that any of her other friends would have cared; she wondered now if they had only ever seen her as object, idol, something to be possessed.

One day, she looked in the mirror, and realized with a start – she could see the changes on her skin. _Under_ her skin. Faint definition where before their had been nothing. Experimentally, she flexed a bicep – yep, it was there.

She leaned backwards and looked over at her legs. When had spindly legs started to show neat curves of calf and thigh? She had a long way to go from the gangly teenager she was, but _something_ was visibly happening, and the thought encouraged her.

She kept her skirts, with some alterations – they tuned out to be remarkably suited for fighting. Zangan approved, but not for the reasons she thought.

“Martial arts is all a mind trick. Men have their weak points too,” Zangan told her, “and in more ways than one. Your looks can be a weapon too, in the right circumstances.”

“Huh,” Tifa said. She’d never really thought of things that way. She’d gotten used to getting attention from boys, yes, but she’d never much thought about the _why_ , it only leaving her feeling insecure and unsure as to who saw her for who she really was.

Actually, she knew the answer to that. _Cloud_.

She wondered if he’d like the way she looked now.

The true joy was when she was deemed competent enough to safely explore the mountain. She reveled in her newfound freedom to clamber all over, only restraining herelf out of courtesy for her father. But as he became accustomed to his daughter’s new routine, he gave his blessing to go up with Zangan first, then, nervously, alone.

Mt. Nibel was a dead thornbush; the nearer she got to the top, the more she realized how the reactor had sucked the life right out of it. She’d still find mako vents, pockets of vitality bubbling up from within. The climb to the top was ever steeper; her knees soon bled, and she wondered how to cover herself better next time.

But the view from the top was incredible – she could see for miles in all directions, places further than she had ever been. And suddenly, she was afflicted with a longing to go see some of those places, see the world outside of Nibelheim.

_One day I’ll cross the mountain_ , she made her silent promise.


	12. June 0001-October 0001

_Dear mom and dad, I’ve managed to get a girlfriend…._

Zack felt a little guilty as he sealed the envelope. Here he had been in Midgar over a year, and this was the first letter he had sent back home. You would think with a reactor there, they would be able to get some proper telephone lines in, but no luck. Still, he found himself bursting with the news of Aerith, and he just had to let them know somehow.

A blissful spring had rolled into summer, and he didn’t even _want_ to deny that he was in love. He couldn’t care less about the other women he’d been with – Aerith was something all her own. He was taking it slow, treating her as gently as she deserved, but sometimes she would surprise him with her flirtatious ways, revealing an innocence not quite as total as he had suspected.

He found himself going down to the slums every chance he could. They’d go different places in Midgar, in the slums, but he yet couldn’t convince her to go above the plate. Again, in due time. In any case, it was at the church that she really came alive, and what was once HER spot rapidly became THEIRS.

It was where they shared their first kiss, the one he had been denied on their first date, and it was every bit worth the wait.

_He’d come upon her tending the flowers on his second trip back to see her, grateful and ready for that second date. She’d been kneeling down tending the flowers, and suddenly he just couldn’t wait._

_He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to her feet and turning her to face him. Cupping her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers, simply, sweetly. He felt slender arms snake around his neck and he was standing there, kissing her long and slow and deep, and it was the only place he ever wanted to be in his life._

Kisses and more kisses. The ecstasy of having the one he loved in his arms, her smiles, her eyes, lighting up his days. Talking with her about anything and everything, the subject no more important than were the words to put those ideas in form, hearing the sound of her voice the only thing he needed.

He told her about hopes, dreams, honor, promises, Angeal’s words coming up from where they had been scratched into his brain far deeper than he had thought, enough so that the lessons were part of him, now. He talked about his dreams of becoming a hero.

“What do you think that really means?” she asked.

He realized he wanted to be hers.

He found himself considering, reconsidering his values, reminding himself what really counted. Over and over, he came back to the same conclusion. It was the people in his life that were really important, the bonds of life that tied us all together. Slowly, in his head, he started to wonder and reshape his whole concept of what being a hero was; and he realized nothing and no one he had seen so far really filled the definition.

What would be his legacy? What would he leave behind, how would he make a mark, the mementoes of a life?

Aerith gave him part of the answer.

She was a refreshing breeze to fill the space Angeal left behind, helping him to realize: things were always changing. Still, he mourned the fact that he couldn’t just sit still and enjoy long moments forever. Instead, he learned to savor and save every little bit of happiness he got, not to take it for granted, for it could all blow away.

She had a slow, lazy sensuality about her, twists of pale female skin driving him mad with frustrated lust, dying to immerse himself in her absolutely. She was young, tender. He hesitated to cross the border for anything less than mutual. He could wait.

For her, he would wait.

His dick was crying out with lack of use, but he gritted his teeth and sought relief with one hand. His head filled with imaginings of her, seeing and touching her naked body, his mind filling in all the gaps of anticipation. But he wanted her desire as well; he wanted her to be comfortable, secure.

Because, he realized, he actually _was_ looking for lasting love. Eventually she’d be willing to come up to the plate with him… and that could be the start. He pulled a decent salary, and had so little to spend it on that he put most of it aside. He started to think about the different privileges he had access to. Priority housing. Shinra medical care.

Things that had never mattered to him before were starting to make a difference to him.

Zack was surprised to find out she often stayed late at the church, even overnight, but as Aerith explained, her mother knew this was the safest place in the neighborhood. The peace and calm of the space infected him as well, and he found himself perfectly content to spend nights there with her, kissing her amongst the flowers. Her slender body, trim but not frail, like the flowers themselves far more resilient than she looked, as he’d enclose her in his arms, conforming her shape to his, she melting against him like candle wax.

Kissing soft, languorous, deeper as his hands traveled over her back to bury fingertips in silken strands. The comparison to flowers was inevitable. Lips, petal soft against his tougher skin. Her scent and taste, something fragrant yet base all rolled into one. A heady blend that filled his nostrils, sending shocks straight to his groin, leaving him uncomfortably hard and embarrassed that she would be able to tell; but she took him by surprise the first time she gently pulled their bodies closer together, she completely unashamed of his apparent arousal.

_Oh, goddess…._

“Tell me what life in the slums is like,” he urged her.

“I don’t know if there is much to tell that you haven’t already seen,” she told him, as his lips brushed her hairline. “People survive as best they can around here. We look out for each other here.”

Zack thought about that. He’d been so excited to come to Midgar and be a part of SOLDIER – and in many ways, still was – but Shinra could be very… sterile. It was the disillusionment that had come with the loss of Angeal, his increasing suspicion at what he had signed on for. He never wanted to lose his heart, a heart now filled with Aerith, her love spurring him with strength even in battle, as if she were there to whisper _good luck_.

He’d ingrained Angeal’s lessons even as Angeal himself had seemed to forget them. Was it naïve of him to wish that Angeal was still there to help guide him? Or was it now his fate to guide himself? Lead instead of follow, pay those lessons forward to someone else. The boy inside just wanted someone to give him answers, but the man knew they were within. Angeal’s final, inadvertent lesson.

It was too late. Like it or not, he was all grown up.

*******

Elmyra was uncertain. Aerith didn’t remember enough of Shinra to tell her everything that had happened _before_ , but the nights as a child Aerith had woken up screaming were enough to tell her perhaps some things were better left unremembered.

Aerith still had those nightmares. They just didn’t make her scream anymore.

But one day Aerith had come home with a sparkle in her eye and a pink ribbon in her hair, and that was all a mother needed to see to know she know had to share her daughter’s heart with another. For Aerith’s sake, she was willing to give even a man from Shinra a chance.

Then Aerith brought home Zack Fair, and she couldn’t help but be charmed.

He had the sort of good looks that could completely ruin a man, if he didn’t seem so oblivious to them. Good-natured. Polite. Kind. And clearly besotted with her daughter. It was a pleasure to see. Over the course of dinner , she learned about his hometown (Gongaga), parents (alive, only child), hobbies (squats, motorcycles – eh, she could live with that), and job prospects (enough for her to be reassured that he could give Aerith security).

He certainly seemed destined for a career with SOLDIER; it sounded like he had earned his place. How would that connect to Shinra’s interests in Aerith? Maybe he could protect her from the inside… She would have asked Tseng that question, had she dared to bring it up. She flashed back to Tseng’s strange offer. The Turks still watched over Aerith, but as long as they didn’t trouble her further than that, she supposed they did more good than harm.

Eventually, Aerith would have to go her own way. She was prepared to deal with men… **_sexually_** \- even in her own head, Elmyra had a hard time thinking of that word in conjunction with his daughter – but like every other girl in Midgar, Elmyra had made sure Aerith had what she needed.

Aerith hummed sweetly as mother and daughter washed and dried the dishes, Zack having left with a polite “Good night, Ms. Gainsborough.”

“So what do you think about him, Mom?”

Elmyra was hesitant. How could she describe everything a mother wondered and worried, when it came to a daughter in love? The things she wanted for Aerith… everything that one man could never hope to fill. Still…. She had been a wife once as well, to a man who did all that any one man could do – just try his best. “I just want to see you happy,” she told her daughter, not without a hint of warning. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Zack would never hurt me,” Aerith insisted.

Aerith believed that with every fiber of her being. Zack didn’t have a devious bone in his body. It made her regret the secrets she herself kept from him, the secrets of her connection to Shinra – she hadn’t even so much as told him Elmyra wasn’t her real mother.

  
She couldn’t bear to bring those painful memories into the sunshine of first love. Despite his aspirations within Shinra, Zack was… pure. He wasn’t one of THEM, not truly. Not inside her heart.

Tseng was still around, omnipresent eyes betraying nothing of what he felt about the relationship. She wondered how her eagle-eyed protector felt, his role usurped by another; she thought back to his strange proposal, realizing there must have been more behind it than had been apparent. More than he was permitted to tell her. Whatever strange machinations Shinra had in mind for her.

She shivered. She never wanted to go back to the lab that made her mother suffer and die.

She ‘d rather die herself first.

Zack made her feel safe, in more ways than one. She’d been so hesitant upon finding out that he was part of that monster corporation, and she didn’t want to put a damper on his enthusiasm, tell him the cruelties Shinra was capable of. But he was a First Class, that should count for something, right? Could he really protect her, keep her safe? And if not... Maybe they could leave Midgar. Run away. Find a place for just the two of them, if there was any place free of Shinra, a place where they could be free. If only her Cetra heritage wouldn’t follow her wherever they went.

She wanted to hang on to what she had found, hoping dearly they weren’t doomed from the start.

It was only at the church with him that she felt truly able to breathe, warm washes of the Lifestream simmering under the building’s surface, the flowers helping to cradle her in the embrace of the Planet. And when Zack was with her there, kissing, touching her with the greatest of care, the earth beneath hummed its approval of love.

It was there that he first told her he loved her.

He’d left her once again breathless with kisses, lips swollen from his attentions. It was the darkest hours of the night; but the cracks in the plate that allowed bent rays of the sun showed nothing of stars. Distant echoes of Midgar’s artificial lights gave their only pretense at moonlight, no skyline to be seen.

Aerith didn’t care. All the light she needed was right there with her.

He propped himself up and looked deep into her eyes, radiant mako meeting her own glow. “Aerith… there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh?” she asked, intrigued.

He hung his head. “The thing is, uh… I’ve never actually said this to anyone before.” He took a deep breath. “Ok. Here goes nothing.”

His eyes sparkled blue, so blue. Her light. “Aerith. I love you.”

There it was. Simple, direct, honest. So much like the man himself, the man who was her darling.

And she gave her response with kisses upon kisses, as the limited sun broke through into morning…

*******

Miles from civilization, and the copter was a burning mash. Tseng had radioed for another, but who knows how long that might be. In the meantime, Zack was far too antsy and impatient. There was nothing to do but start walking.

_Tseng_. Where did the man’s loyalties lie? Zack was still irked at his refusal to explain his relationship to Aerith; it made him uneasy. He didn’t want Aerith connected to Shinra, wanted to keep his heart separate from the alienation, isolation he was starting to feel.

He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d barely noticed the lone infantryman beside him, who had kept up all the way from the wreckage site. Even lacking mako enhancements, he had matched Zack stride for stride, never breaking pace.

“That’s some stamina you’ve got there,” he commented.

“I’m used to the mountains. Cold doesn’t bother me much either,” the trooper told him.

“Oh?” Zack wondered. “Where are you from?”

“Someplace you’ve probably never heard of… Nibelheim.” The other man removed his helmet, revealing a shock of bright blonde hair, a spiky mess that pointed every which way. Guy probably could use a haircut, but hey, it kind of suited him. “I’m Cloud,” he said, smiling.

“Cloud, huh,? I’m Zack. Nice to meet you.” Zack rubbed his chin. “I’ve heard of Nibelheim.”

_Nibelheim .Yet another backwater with a reactor and not much else._ Cold where Gongaga was hot, and – well, that was all he really knew about it.

Cloud looked at Zack in surprise. “What for? There isn’t much of anything out there.”

“There’s a reactor there,” Zack told him. “Same as where I’m from – Gongaga. Some of these towns, the reactor is the only thing that puts them on the map, you know?

Cloud paused. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it. The reactor has just always kind of been there.”

“Well, I can definitely see you’re used to the terrain. The way you booked it up that hill… you’d think you were trying out for SOLDIER or something.”

He’d only been teasing, but Cloud looked suddenly mortified. “I… did try out. I… sortofdidn’tpass,” he explained awkwardly.

Zack looked him over, appraising. “Why? You certainly seem to be physically fit enough.”

“They told me it was the mental exam,” Cloud mumbled. “They didn’t explain why.”

“Did you ask your friends for help with that?” Zack wondered. “They got your back there? That can make a big difference.”

“I… don’t really have many friends,” Cloud reluctantly admitted.

_Ah. That explained a lot_. “Parents?” Zack asked.

“Mom only,” Cloud replied. “I never knew my dad.”

Zack’s heart went out to the guy. He seemed… _bereft_ … in a way. That’s why they’d failed him on the mental exam. Wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional pressure of the mako, as he understood things. He couldn’t see any real reason, though, why Cloud was so… _disconnected_. He wasn’t shy, wasn’t timid, even if more laconic than Zack himself.

Maybe he just needed someone to give him a chance.

“Is that your goal then?” Zack asked. “Get into SOLDIER?”

For a moment Cloud looked far away. “I came to Midgar wanting… to be a hero,” he finally said. “I promised someone.”

A sentiment Zack certainly understood.

They reached the top of the hill and paused to wait for Tseng. Cloud was a little confused. The first time he had met a SOLDIER – First Class no less! - and he was… NOT… what Cloud had expected. He was approachable. Friendly, even. As if their difference in ranks meant nothing. And he seemed to like Cloud just fine – Cloud just kind of wasn’t used to having people LIKE him, he’d gotten so used to being without friends.

“IF I can join…” Cloud continued, but Zack interrupted. “No, WHEN you join.” Zack sighed. “Look, dude, the mako transfusions are tough. They won’t take you if you can’t handle it. I got in easy, but you’ll get there – you just gotta give it time.”

Cloud silenced, pondering.

“Well, we’re both country bumpkins, so I guess that means we’ve got to stick together.” Zack laughed, and Cloud laughed right along with him. “Nice to have a buddy along on this ride.”

Zack considered the young man. He could see a lot of himself in Cloud – parts of himself he had started to wonder if he was losing out of necessity. It was the same sort of softspoken innocence he associated with Aerith, even if lacking in her bright flirtatious ways - the same sort of feeling he got when he was with her, that everything could still be fresh and new. A feeling that had been in short supply since Angeal’s loss.

He had it in him. He had the heart. The physical strength – Zack had him beat by a mile, but he could see the potential – anyways, there were the mako injections. But really, what was physical strength? A means to an end. Dreams, honor… those were the lessons Angeal had pounded into him, he being sick of hearing it.

Boy, he wished Angeal were there to lecture him now…

But really, what it came down to was this. You needed people to care for. Something, someone to fight for.

Then Tseng came up and suddenly, as Cloud watched, Zack was all SOLDIER. Focused. Dangerous. “Well, Cloud, guess you’re about to see some of how it’s done.”

“Remember, we are supposed to avoid conflict,” Tseng cautioned.

“Relax. Aren’t I always careful?” Zack asked, brazen confidence and charm rolled into one.

Tseng just looked at him. “No.”

Zack laughed; even Cloud grinned. “Well, fair enough. See ya!” - and he was bounding down the slope for whatever awaited him.

Cloud rose and turned to look at Tseng. “Is he always like this?”

“In a word, yes.” Tseng sighed. “He’s one of the best. I admit that reluctantly.”

“Huh.” Cloud grunted. “So what do we do now?”

“We follow,” Tseng said, readying his gun.

Cloud unslung his rifle, poised and ready. Tseng recalled a note in his file, the file he’d checked before embarking on this mission, examining the personnel he would be working with. _Subject shows unexpected proficiency with a sword, considering lack of training._ Cloud looked around warily, and Tseng recalled another note. _Subject acts in line with his values and beliefs over taking orders. Shows intelligence and initiative. For this reason, it is believed he is unsuitable for the regular army. Subject’s stated goal is to make it into SOLDIER, but should he fail the next round of examinations, it may be advisable to consider subject for Turk membership._

Signed, Shuriken, June 28, 0001.

Even as they fought their way together through the building, Tseng coolly took stock of the young trooper, with one eye towards Shuriken’s observations. So far, he seemed to be proving true. He’d seen it already on the hill, Cloud taking out a griffon behind Zack without missing a beat.

A commotion rustled overhead, and both their head snapped up as one.

“What was that,?” Cloud asked.

“Probably Zack,” Tseng replied.

Cloud strode forward, determined. “I’m going to check. Cover me?” He looked to Tseng for the nod of confirmation.

“Use caution,” Tseng warned him, and Cloud was running up the stairs.

Zack swiped Genesis’s sword away from Hollander’s neck, the scientist taking his chance to run. But before he escaped, he was grabbed from behind, wrestled still with more strength than Zack would have imagined Cloud possessed. _You never could tell with these little guys sometimes…_

“Good work, Cloud!” Zack shouted, just as in that instant their target broke free. Suddenly uncertain , Cloud looked to Zack, and with a jerk of his head Zack gave the silent command. _After him._

Cloud was off and running in an instant.

Tseng melted into the shadows as Hollander came barreling downstairs, only stepping out when Cloud came careening from behind him. A nod, joining the pursuit. They crunched into the snow outside, a whisk of a coat being their sign to follow, chasing Hollander through the cold empty city to an abandoned bathhouse on the far end. Stealthy, they crept inside, alert for anything amiss.

Tseng barely had time to register before he was attacked.

_Angeal_ …

Zack gaped in astonishment at the depths into which Genesis had leapt. _Did he really just_ … no matter. If Genesis was gone, there was one less problem to deal with, but a bigger one still remained.

_Angeal must be here too._

_Had Cloud and Tseng had run into him… ?_

They wouldn’t stand a chance.

He was running, running through the village, following the fresh footprints that led into the abandoned village, stopping before a decrepit bathhouse, walls crumbled and open to the sky.

Somehow, he knew, even before he saw..

_Cloud_. Crumpled to the ground, and Zack felt responsible.

“Hey! Cloud! Talk to me!” he begged, but before panic set in, Cloud stumbled half standing, plopping down again with a sigh. _Tseng_. The other man was not in much better shape…

“Find Angeal,” Tseng said.

“Stay here,” Zack cautioned. “This is for me to face alone.”

Tseng gazed at Zack’s fleeing back. He’d never been on several missions with Zack Fair, but he’d never seen murder in the other man’s eyes.

Zack flew up the stairs… for better or for worse, ready to greet his old mentor at the top..

“Angeal.” Zack pleaded. “This is your last chance, I’m begging you. This time we’ll have to fight.”

Angeal stared him down. “Only one of use is leaving here alive. Which one do you think it should be?” His look was piercing, knowing. “You have someone waiting for you, don’t you?”

_So it comes to this._ Zack braced himself…

…the next moment his emotions allowed him to feel, he was leaning over his old mentor’s body.

Angeal, degraded, decrepit. _Dying_. By his hand. “Thank you, Zack,” he said, with all the dignity Zack had come to associate with the man. “There’s nothing left for me. I’m relieved to have it over.”

Zack flashed to a boy downstairs, new to honor and dreams, while his mentor was here, jaded and giving up.

If Angeal had been the question… maybe Cloud was the answer.

Blood dripped forward, and Zack reached up to his face. He vaguely remembered the slash that had swiped his face, inside the void he registering neither pain nor injury.

Angeal’s failing body took hold of the Buster Sword, his strength visibly weakening by the second. “My dreams, my honor – I’ve lost them, but perhaps you can make them real.” As Zack took hold of the hilt, Angeal closed his eyes and exhaled his last breath.

Zack leaned forward over his beloved friend’s body, pain lacing through and through. He barely heard Tseng and Cloud come up the stairs as he started to cry without restraint.

The other men waited, a long moment, as Zack let out his pain. “The new copter’s here, Tseng finally said, quietly.

Zack nodded, and rose, numb inside.

They clambered in, Zack facing the two other men. He pulled out a Cure from his pocket.

“Are you going to heal that scar?” Tseng asked.

Zack looked at the materia, grim. “No. I’m keeping it.” Cloud looked at him with pained sympathy, layered over the faint hints of motion sickness coming in.

_Wishes did come true. Just never in the way you wanted._

Zack reflected on the casual optimism he’d borne into Modeoheim. Happy endings hoped for. But no, there was a part of innocence shattered, a part that he would never get back…

Cloud, still untainted. SOLDIER would beat that out of him, Zack thought bitterly. Cloud might want to be SOLDIER, but… part of Zack didn’t want him to make it. Somewhere, someone should have a chance at peace. Zack suspected that was gone for him.

He could try to hold onto his own honor. That could never be taken away; it was locked too deep in his heart. All he could do now was pay his debt forward. There was no going back… not after what he had done.

The image of Angeal, degraded, a shadow in his last moments. Unconsciously, he reached for the sword at his back. _Never again_. Never again would he let someone close to him die… not while he was alive to do something about it. The sword… given to him at the cost of Angeal’s life and soul…

They hit the tarmac; Tseng left to report. Zack and Cloud were left standing alone. On a hunch…

He was surprised to find out Cloud could lift Angeal’s sword. It couldn’t be just a matter of strength. What was it that gave Cloud his drive, his motivation? He tried to teach Cloud a few moves. Some were still amateur, but the skill was already there, the understanding. Soon enough, Cloud would get there. _He would get there._

As he slapped the sword onto his own back, Cloud looked at him with undisguised admiration. The way he’d once looked at Angeal, even Genesis… “Chill out, buddy,” he told Cloud, uncomfortable. “Hey, I’m just a regular guy. Don’t let the Mako eyes tell you otherwise.”

Cloud nodded, unconvincingly. Still, it was enough. Zack walked with Cloud back to the main barracks, trudging, quiet. His mind was already elsewhere. He passed Cloud his PHS number, with a distracted “Call me anytime,” and turned to go.

“Where are you off to?” Cloud asked. He sounded worried.

Angeal’s words echoed in his head. “Someone’s waiting for me,” he stopped, speaking behind him, already moving forward.

_Aerith. Cloud_. New connections, new responsibilities. Obligations to others. Angeal might be gone, but his lessons remained…

Zack was the mentor now. He wasn’t ready, but there it was.

The church came into view all too soon; the walk hadn’t been long enough for him to take in all that had happened. Aerith was his light, innocence, purity; Zack was damaged goods. He didn’t feel ready to face his angel…

But she was the only person in the world he wanted to see right now.

Here he was, the same spot where he had been called to Modeoheim. Déjà vu, he the same, yet so different from before.

He wondered if Aerith would be able to tell.

He wondered if she was here.

The sun caught her as he entered; his heart reached for her. She rose at his entry. “Zack!” she cried out, happily. Then she noticed. “You have a new sword. How did you get that?”

Zack’s knees buckled under him, and as he plopped to the floor, right in the middle of the aisle, tears would wait no longer.

Her heart broke. She wanted to bring him to the flowers, to life, to the spot where the Lifestream could reach up to heal a wounded soul.

She stared above. Her brave protector, capable of so much emotion, so much love. It had changed her mind about so much.

“Zack,” she said softly. “I want to see the sky.”

His sobs continued, unabated. She had to bring love to him. Kneeling behind him, she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight with everything she felt for him; and slowly tears started to dry.

He turned, and kisses replaced tears as he returned her embrace.

He kissed her without flirtation, without hunger, but poignant tenderness that she felt inside her soul, her handsome SOLDIER stronger than he knew.

He scooped her bridal style, picking up her slight form like nothing, and as he carried her down the aisle of the church, she covered his lips and eyes with whispered kisses.

She didn’t stop when he lay her down in the flowers. And she didn’t stop when his hands slid up her body, wiping away gossamer fabric to sweep it over her head and throwing it to the side. And she didn’t stop when he removed the ribbon he’d bought for her, shaking out her curls and arranging them in a fan over the blooms. And then she just didn’t stop…


	13. November 0001-July 0002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to MarleNadia, writer on this site, because she’s been wanting some Zerith action. Here ya go!

Zack held the Buster Sword in his hands, considering. _My dreams… my honor_.

Had Angeal found those things in the end?

He fingered his scar unconsciously, the reminder he’d chosen to keep, there every day to remind him of what to value and what not to forget.

He understood now. The burden was his to shoulder now, and its weight was more than the sword itself ever could be.

It was time to take up the responsibility that came with it. _There came a time,_ he mused, _when the student could no longer learn from the teacher, and had to strike out on his own._ He didn’t know if he was ready, but…

Well. No buts. He simply had to be.

As he rose to go, he caught sight of his new haircut, impulsively adjusting it. What a stupid thing to care about at a time like this… but he did, anyway. Aerith said it would take some getting used to, giggling slightly, and truthfully he felt the same. It made him seem more – _severe_ – somehow, harsher. More of what he felt inside.

It bolstered him as he prepared to go face the troops.

Cloud watched as Zack entered the room. _He’s changed his hair,_ Cloud noticed. _I wonder why?_ Perhaps unconscious imitation of Angeal? Whatever the reason, it made his face somehow more… angular. Older, somehow. Or was that just the way Zack carried himself? Cloud had only just met the man, but even so, he could tell the difference. It was one of… presence.

Had Cloud actually thought Zack cavalier, flippant? Now, seeing him in front of the massed troops as their commander, Cloud revised his opinion. He hadn’t known Genesis, or Angeal; he certainly hadn’t met Sephiroth like he had hoped. But Zack…. Now THIS was what being a SOLDIER was meant to be. Zack was Cloud’s consummate picture of a hero.

He fingered the PHS number the other man had given him. Perhaps he could send a text, at least. Maybe Zack was something he could aspire to…

*******

Angeal was gone, and there was nothing Zack could do to take that back . The scar was there to remind him of that every day.

But things always changed. Angeal had knocked him down to the church, and he’d met Aerith. Angeal had died on the same day Cloud came into his life.

The younger man was an effective antidote to all the baggage that was piling up on Zack. Despite the contrast of personalities, Zack saw so much of his younger self in Cloud, an idealistic young man still so full of hopes and dreams.

He was slowly starting to remember those. The difference was, he silently resolved to meet those on his own terms this time. He hoped he could nurture Cloud’s dreams, encourage them, pass some hope forward to replace the ones he’d left behind.

Zack was thrust into an awkward conjunction – part role model, part friend, and the difference was a minute-by-minute adjustment sometimes. A hair’s breadth between presenting as SOLDIER and just being a guy hanging out with a buddy. The more they hung out, the more Cloud’s outlook improved – and the more Zack wondered. _Why was Cloud so poorly connected to others when he was such a nice guy?_

And how on Gaia could the guy be so clueless about girls?

“So, when are you going to find a girlfriend too? I can’t hang out with you all the time, you know,” Zack teased him one day.

To his surprise, Cloud blushed beet red. “Well, uh.. I haven’t really… that is…”

_No way. Cloud couldn’t be_. “You do know what to DO with a woman, right?”

“Of course,” Cloud replied. “You play with her boobs for a while, and then you pound her.”

Zack guffawed, slapping his palm on the table for emphasis. “That’s… just… RICH, Spike. That’s what you plan to do?”

Cloud sniffed, miffed at the assessment of his yet-unattained prowess. “I need to make sure she comes. Like, really really hard.”

“That’s a great way to make sure she never comes BACK. Like, really really never,” Zack forced out, gasping for breath and tears running down his cheeks. “Where did you hear all that, anyway?”

“The guys in the barracks,” Cloud replied primly.

Zack groaned. “Well, there, that’s your problem, buddy. You listened to GUYS. Guys don’t know a damn thing. They try to treat a girl like she works the same as them. See, here’s the thing.” Zack waved a fork in the air for emphasis. “Girls are a lot more… complicated. And they are all different from each other, too. So you have to find out what THEY like. Not what some other clueless guy thinks they like. I mean… you DO want to know what you are doing when you find a special girl, right? Issss…. There a special girl?”

The expression on Cloud’s face told Zack he had hit his mark. But Cloud was so clearly insecure; he wondered who this girl was. She’d be stupid if she didn’t snap Cloud up... but Cloud genuinely did not seem to understand that girls liked nice guys.

Cloud deflated. Here he thought he was ready to go, and now to find out he didn’t know anything… “So how do YOU know so well?” he asked Zack. “I mean, you’re a GUY too, huh?”

Zack laughed. “What do you think? I learned from actual WOMEN. Practice makes perfect. You need some practice.”

“Isn’t that kind of… I dunno… disrespectful?” Cloud asked.

Zack sighed. He sure had his work cut out for him. “Look, Cloud, loving a woman physically doesn’t mean you don’t respect her. It’s not an either/or thing.”

Cloud mulled over that. “So, how am I supposed to find that kind of practice?”

“Well a lot of the troops just go to hookers.” The shocked looked on Cloud’s face was totally worth it. “I’m just kidding, Spike. You don’t need to pay for it. We just need to find you a nice older girl to show you a thing or two.”

“My mom used to tell me she thought I should have an older girlfriend,” Cloud volunteered.

“I don’t think this is what your mom had in mind.” Zack winked.

And to his surprise, that very night, Cloud found himself in the company of a woman ten years older, a secretary at Shinra. Blonde, pretty if not memorable, but kind, more than willing to open Cloud’s eyes to some things he hadn’t known before….

*******

Zack Fair was the most tender of lovers.

She’d been nervous the first time, not embarrassed or ashamed, just unsure about what happened next. But he touched her with the assurance of experience, settling into her a feeling of relief; he initiated her easily, painlessly, making it easy for her to welcome his embrace all the times after.

She relished the feeling of their bodies lying naked together, his muscles solid and strong as he enveloped her in his embrace. Warm lips, lavishing attention on her sensitive nipples; strong hands, so different from the ways she had touched herself. He’d slide his hand between her legs, tickling her with easy strokes, making her body sing in automatic response.

He’d whisper to her to _relax, enjoy_ … and in his hands, she could. He’d work her gently until her folds were dewy-most, and then…. Sometimes he lowered himself down with a little-boy grin, greedily lapping up her juices, centering attention on her clit as she cried out, he extracting more and more for his tasting pleasure. Other times he’d lay her back, spreading her legs as he took his weight on his hands. He entered her still-tight opening with the greatest of consideration, until after a few times, she found herself urging on _harder, faster, deeper_ , relishing the feeling of him stretching her, widening her.

He held back the first few times too, giving her time to get used to lovemaking, to the feeling of having him inside of her. She learned her responses quickly enough, and now she came easily with him, whether he used his fingers, tongue, or cock; and every time she found herself crying his name once again, he’d look at her with utmost love as he let himself release as well, bringing them both down from the peak with kisses as they slid away with limbs still entangled, tumbling together towards sleep.

*******

Another memory gone bad. The Icicle Inn mission, attacked by AVALNCHE forces, two more SOLDIERs lost to the rebels, their minds stolen before they met their demise.

While Zack looked at the swords, the last memorial of SOLDIERSs Essai and Sebastian, Tseng examined Zack Fair.

He knew _everything_ , of course. Had known just about as soon as it happened, Zack rushing away from the fiasco of Modeoheim and into his beloved’s arms.

Internally, Tseng had put as reluctant stamp of approval on the relationship. Whatever else he might think of the situation, Zack made her happy. And for that, Tseng was grateful.

“Dammit, Tseng, they were my friends.” Zack shook his fist in ager.

Zack was nothing if not genuine, and it was real tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes now, as easily as those tears for Angeal had spilled into Aerith’s arms.

“I thought you met them only once before?” inquired Tseng.

Zack turned to look at him, firm resolve on his face. “Once is more than enough for loyalty, Tseng.” His eyes said, _don’t know if the Turks know that_.

In a way, Tseng DIDN’T. He’d had to learn never to trust, while Zack gave his heart freely.

A good match for Aerith, really.

He really hoped they had a chance.

The snow gently falling over Icicle Inn couldn’t help but take Zack back to Modeoheim those months before. Another time, another friend he couldn’t save. He kept fighting so hard to hang onto what mattered. Why did he keep losing?

He thought with horror of the fate he’d narrowly avoided. Three capsules, the last clearly intended for HIM. Crumpled bodies emptied of the souls that had been his friends. AVALANCHE had clearly been expecting him. To corrupt him into one of their monsters. Was that all anyone saw him as? Did the mako in his veins make him nothing more than a monster?

He’d never accept that. Whatever else happened, he would live and die a man, the images from his heart giving him strength. So few of those remained. Sephiroth. Cissnei. Cloud. Kunsel.

_Tseng_.

Turk or no, he trusted the man, wondering about his murky relationship to Aerith, and hoping that trust was not misplaced.

And Aerith above it all, Aerith filling his heart…

He wanted, needed to be with her now.

He reached out and touched the sword hilts softly, reverently. “Sleep well, guys,” he told them. “I’ll come visit soon.”

Tseng waited silently behind. “Come on,” Zack gestured, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice. “Let’s go back home.”

*******

Her arms welcomed him back with all the sweetness he’d come to associate with her, his refuge in a crazy world.

Zack found that he absolutely LOVED making love to Aerith, and for the first time, it really was that, making love. He didn’t want to be too rough with her, but she was no fragile flower either – uninhibited. Enthusiastic. He had trouble finding the word for it, but finally he did – _natural_.

She was just so fundamentally erotic to him; he couldn’t even try to compare her to the other women he’d been with. He couldn’t. Aerith was so achingly feminine, that every part of her excited him further.

And watching her orgasm… was just about the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

It was easy. _Normal_. He found that he practically fell into sex with her as easily as he had fallen into her church and her life. He undressed her like petals falling away, dress sliding off her skin to the ground, his hot skin touching hers, lips traveling over her body, stopping to visit at her nipples, trailing down between her legs. And she’d return the favor with laughing playfulness, her silky fingers caressing his cock while he ran his fingers through her lustrous hair.

He took the time to learn her responses, fingertips tracing over every inch of skin, noting the ways to please her best.

She took him by surprise one day when she took him into her mouth, her motions delicate, awkward at first, but she figured it out soon enough, and Zack relished the sight and feeling, the fact that she was willing to love him that way.

They made love always at the church.

They spent the nights there, Zack wondering how much Elmyra really knew. She certainly didn’t fear for Aerith’s safety; as if the church was somehow a protected space, Perhaps it was. Zack knew he always slept well there, and whether it was the church itself or the company he kept, he never was able to determine.

It wasn’t the strangest place to meet with a woman. He shortly became accustomed to bringing a bedroll, water, food. They’d laugh and talk together, touching, kissing, and Zack would find himself sweetly parting her legs to slide inside her canal, her insides stretching to accommodate him, now comfortably familiar with his organ. He worried sometimes, he on top of her and she so much smaller than him, but when he left her sighing in pleasure below, her lost his fear.

She seemed so fragile, but it was deceptive. He feared crushing her under his heavy body, but she curled around him softly, naturally. Accepting him into her soft moist insides, welcoming him with her warmth; her small pert breasts pushing against his chest, nipples brushing his own as she urged him _closer, closer_ until his head spun, not knowing where he ended and she began, his every sense full of her. Her fragrant scent, lingering on his lips as he slid down to the earthier aroma between her legs, she filling his nostrils as he lapped up her juices eagerly, accompanied by the music of her sweet high-pitched cries. He remembered the first time he had brought her to orgasm with his mouth, her voice free and loose echoing off the rafters of a church that seemed to itself sing his praises.

Easier was when she rode him and he could love her fearlessly, recklessly, gripping her little round ass as he bucked into her. Her unleashed bronzed hair catching the rays of sun as it streaked down her back, her head thrown back, breasts jutting forward. She ground herself fearlessly, seeking the pleasure of the friction of his body against her clit. He’d hold back painfully, the suffering worth it when her cries hit _that_ pitch, she squeezing out her juices onto him as he gave back inside of her.

And then they’d be together, he holding her tiny resilient form, soaked in their intermingled fluids, and Zack thought he had never felt so loving or so happy.

*******

“I’ve got a surprise for you today, Spike,” were Zack’s first words to him.

“Oh?” Cloud wasn’t exactly… _suspicious_ … of Zack’s “surprises”. Then again, he wasn’t exactly not.

The last time Zack had sprung a “surprise” on him, he’d ended up with an earring. Oddly, he kind of liked it. _Badass_. He fingered it unconsciously.

Zack was the first person outside of his mother to truly value him. _Tifa_ , he thought, then wondered if that was true. He couldn’t be sure. But Zack he could be sure of – the other man had taken care of him in more ways than one… rowdy taverns, the girls flocking to him, and he brushing them off with a charismatic smile, “ _Thanks ladies, but I have a girlfriend, but have you met my friend Cloud?”_

Zack was the one responsible for his grand total of four sexual experiences. Two blondes, one dark-skinned Costan, and a Wutain. Still, he dreamed of long brown hair and cinnamon-spice eyes.

But Zack had certainly been right about one thing. At least now he’d know what the hell he was doing.

“It’s a birthday present!” Zack cheerily announced.

“Zack,” Cloud began, “my birthday is in _August_. It’s _March_ right now.”

“I didn’t _know_ you in August,” Zack reminded him. “So it counts. Let’s go.”

Cloud started to get nervous when he realized they were heading for the off-campus transport. “Zack,” he asked, “are you sure I’m not going to get in trouble for this? I don’t have a pass to leave.”

“You really think I didn’t think of that?” Zack replied. He pulled a sliver of plastic out of his pocket and waved it under Cloud’s nose. “It’s really not a problem for a First Class, if they want to check out a cadet. You know, like a library book.” He laughed. “As far as anyone else knows, you’re on a monster cleanout mission with me today. Routine stuff. Boring.”

Cloud felt certain that whatever Zack was up to, it wasn’t going to be boring.

To his surprise, it was a ways out of Midgar they were going, a track that was definitely too large to fit on the plate, and most likely the slums as well. But the real surprise was…

“Motorcycles?” he asked, suddenly delighted. “That’s what you’ve been planning?”

“Naturally.” Zack smirked with self-satisfaction. “I need some practice in, and you, buddy, are going to learn, since they don’t teach the grunts.” He poked Cloud in the chest. “This’ll help you get over that motion sickness. No getting sick on a bike! You’ll be too fucking terrified.”

Cloud was… _touched_ , to say the least. Just when you were ready to dismiss Zack as a big-hearted lug, he’d do something so incredibly thoughtful like this. _That girlfriend of his must be a really lucky woman._

He wondered if he’d ever get to meet her.

As soon as he got on the bike, he _knew_. It was the same feeling he’d had when he first picked up a sword all those months ago. It just felt… right to him, and after some cursory instructions from the instructor, he was off.

The day flew by, he and Zack goofing off, chasing each other, racing, stopping and starting, occasionally wiping out. Cloud found himself laughing, carefree. A way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Perhaps never.

*******

“They’re sending me on leave," Zack began.

“Another mission?” Aerith asked, worried. “Where to this time?”

“No, not a mission. I wish. Leave, forced leave.” Zack laughed bitterly. “I don’t know why. They haven’t sent me on any important missions in a while. I don’t know if they think I’m kind of a liability or something. No, this is kind of like a forced vacation. They’re sending me to Costa del Sol for a while. A month or so. Until they call me back.”

“Oh.” Aerith only looked thoughtful, one finger to her chin. It filled Zack with regret. _She puts up with so much from me, always having to leave her at the beck and call of Shinra._ He wasn’t planning to leave Shinra – hell, he wasn’t sure if he COULD. He’d never heard of any SOLDIERs actually quitting - maybe it wasn’t allowed. But besides that, Shinra was the best opportunity he had – it had taken him so far from Gongaga, and with luck, further still.

But with even more luck, he’d be going in yet another direction soon. _Aerith… I’ve been thinking about it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask…_

“I wish you could go with me,” he finished lamely. They both knew she couldn’t – not on Shinra’s dime, not with Shinra watching her. They wouldn’t want to let her go far.

“I know,” Aerith replied sadly.

“One day, I’ll take you to see that sky. Like I always promised.” And, he hoped, it would be with a greater promise along with it. _Soon, Aerith. I’m First Class, not on par with Sephiroth – yet – but I’m getting somewhere._ Sephiroth got away with doing whatever he wanted. Maybe then, when he was better situated – he could support her, he could protect her –

_And then… Aerith… THEN, I’ll ask you to marry me. When I am sure I can have you for keeps._

_I hope you’ll say yes…_

Aerith couldn’t read his mind, but she needed no Cetra abilities to see into his heart. The Mako-blue of his irises only made it far more clear to her. He was gazing at her with love, that sweet, gentle love that shone so pure for her. She could feel her own eyes sparkling in response.

_Zack, I hope one day, Shinra won’t be in control of both our lives… and then… perhaps we can have…_

She didn’t follow the thought to its logical conclusion, opting instead to throw her arms around him, pressing lips to his, signaling for him to take the lead. He did, gripping her firmly to him, just enough of that SOLDIER strength to let her know he was here, firm and safe, and for the moment, not letting her go.

She pulled him down, on top of her, his heavy, masculine body stretched over her, elbows to the ground to take off just enough weight. She didn’t care. She wanted to feel his strength, covering her, enclosing her, making her feel safe, blocking out the world outside and all the things it wanted from her. Things she could not give.

Her hands were already fumbling above his waist, tugging at the emblem that held his leather harness in place. He hadn’t removed the sword, and it fell to the dirt with a muffled THUMP; the flowers told her they didn’t mind, no more than they minded being crushed underneath the couple. The earth knew her, knew him, and the flowers wouldn’t resist, making way to bounce back later, allowing room for what they knew would happen, what the flowers had seen and heard so many times before.

She could feel his erection, already rock hard through his pants, and she wiggled her hips upward, teasing him, encouraging him forward. His response was quick, gripping her harder, switching to kiss down her neck, shoulder, nipping, sucking, at her tender skin, desperate to devour her whole if he could. Hands traveled over her arms and down her body, over her skirt, sliding back up her thigh, caressing long strokes over her skin.

“Tell me you want me,” she whispered to him.

“You know I do,” his words caressed her ears.

“Tell me,” she urged. “I want to hear you say it.”

Zack groaned. “I love you so much, Aerith,” he told her. “I’ll love you forever, if you let me.” He drove in her for punctuation, and she cried out in surprise.

She grabbed his rear, pulling him to her, grinding herself against him in the way that made her come and him gasp in ecstasy. “ _Zack_ …” the words trailed off, sensation mounting towards their goal. “I love you too…” A squeak interrupted as he caught her _oh so right_ _there_ , and she knew she was getting close.

“Aerith,” his breath ran ragged. “Aerithhhh….”

“Zack!” she cried back, the single syllable rhythmic with their coupling. “Zack, Zack, Zack, ZACK ZAACCCCKKK!!!”

She arched against him, and he let out a shout as she felt him empty inside her, her own contractions squeezing him, wringing every last drop of fluid out.

He collapsed forward, sweat dripping off his brow. “Wow, Aerith,” he said, when breath slowed and coherency returned. “That was… really something.”

She’d slumped back into the flowers, their own embrace an accompaniment to Zack’s as strong arms pulled her near. A calm settled over her along with the aftershocks. “I don’t know how long it will be before I see you again,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I had to make this count.”

He grinned, that wonderfully silly-stupid smile that had first stolen her heart. “That will keep me company for a while, for sure. But I’ll be back soon enough… I don’t want to be leaving you for this long.” And with her warm and pliant beside him, he knew he had made his decision.

“I hope so,” she replied; but she was already halfway to sleep. She let him gently stroke her hair, as she drifted away, wondering.

She hoped the Planet was right regarding what she was about to do…


	14. August 0002

Sun, sand, waves, all the trappings of a romantic vacation. But it just wasn’t the same without Aerith.

It left Zack feeling washed up, useless. After a few days, he realized he’d rather be back working. He thought he was pretty laid back, but as it turned out, endlessly killing time on the beach simply didn’t suit.

He’d traded texts back and forth with Cloud, blatantly jealous of the stories of the other’s boring army life. Kunsel had kept him appraised by email of the department goings-on. Nothing new to report, nothing to add to the upheaval SOLDIER had already suffered, Lazard missing and no successor to fill the role. It seemed Zack himself had some support for the job? But was he really qualified? Then again, it would give him some stability, something approximating a regular job and a regular life for his hopeful bride-to-be.

Cissnei’s revelations about Aerith were… surprising, to say the least. _The only Ancient in the World?_ No wonder Shinra was interested. Cissnei had given him only the most cursory of explanations, probably all vetted by Tseng, about Shinra’s hopes that Aerith would lead them to the Promised Land, a land of infinite Mako. As if she was just some kind of tool for them to exploit. Oddly, he found he trusted Tseng to guard her; it was Shinra, more and more, that he doubted, he coming to suspect his _own_ dedication to the company instead.

He harbored no illusions that Cissnei wasn’t there to keep an eye on him, but at the same time, she was… a friend. It hurt to hear the truth about Aerith secondhand, but he supposed she was protecting herself, and him. He wanted to be the one to protect her, Shinra or no.

Maybe soon he could.

Cissnei’s companionship at least took the edge off of some of the loneliness. He kept reaching for his PHS< wanting to dial her number, hear the sound of her voice, but he stopped himself every time, realizing he’d hang up even more heartbroken than before, not knowing how long this holding pattern would continue, how long before they called him back and he could see her again, the memory of that last dynamite lovemaking session getting him through lonely nights.

_Cissnei_ … Maybe he could ask for her advice. A woman’s perspective. When should he do it. How should he ask. Did he need a ring, or did people in Midgar not do that like back as home? Speaking of… he’d have to take Aerith back to Gongaga and introduce her. He pictured himself, bursting with pride as he presented her to his mother and father, his mom welcoming her with open arms into the family. All he’d let his parents know was that one damn letter.

He wondered what Aerith was doing without him. If she was happy. If she was safe…

*******

Tseng clapped the phone shut. It was all set up; Cissnei would be back soon enough. He wished Zack would be called back, and soon. Rufus was pushing, hard, for Shinra to pull Aerith in, the new vice President adamant about expanding their search for the Promised Land.

Tseng continued to argue against force, and so far he had been successful. But he wondered how long that would last.

It was hard to see her with Zack Fair sometimes, wistful glimpses of a life he had little hope of achieving, jealousy creeping down his spine. All the same, he was… _satisfied_ , if nothing else, to see her happiness, however it came about, and for her sake, he hoped something would work out for the two of them. Not that he could raise his hopes very high. But anything was better than trying to marry her off to Sephiroth, or maybe Rufus, or worse yet hand her off to Hojo for whatever nefarious objectives the sicko had – someone who would just see her as breeding material to perpetuate the Cetra line.

He could have told him it was too late for that… but it wasn’t information he was planning to pass on. Shinra’s intelligence all filtered through him, and he knew he was abusing this power for the few months Aerith needed to be kept from their prying eyes. After these few months… well, he had no idea. All he could do for now was skirt that jagged edge, playing all sides, always vigilant to the chance of discovery. Shinra’s clutches were hard to escape… but this one secret, he would do everything in his power to protect.

An idle thought occurred to him. Genesis had escaped. Angeal, too. Or had they? Even the vaunted SOLDIER Firsts, symbols of Shinra’s elite. In the end, Angeal, cut down by his own request at Zack’s hand, and Genesis… they still weren’t sure. Copies, appearing at the most inopportune times, just when they thought that scourge was eliminated.

Perhaps he could keep Rufus focused in that direction a while longer…

*******

Aerith tore out of the house, the cool of the night air hitting her skin. She wasn’t thinking rationally, but panicked, all she could think was that she had to flee.

She’d left nothing but a note for her mother. A bullshit note. _I want to see the world outside of Midgar. I’ll come home soon, so don’t worry, mom._ Elmyra wouldn’t believe that for a second. No matter, she’d send word when she could.

Zack had wanted to show her the sky… but she couldn’t afford to wait for him anymore. She had another loyalty to him, now, one she couldn’t afford to risk. _How had the Turks found out so fast?_ She’d only known for sure herself this morning.

But already, she’d seen them watching. _Where was Tseng?_ she wondered. She would have been grateful to see a familiar face, one she had gotten to know, build with a modicum of trust. She might have been a little more reassured, then.

She knew she’d gotten careless when she nearly ran into one.

This couldn’t be whomever was assigned to her tonight, she realized. The small redhead was sorely drunk, in the way only an off-duty Turk could be.

Cissnei stared glassy-eyed, the sight of Aerith immediately sobering her up. The target was for tomorrow. She hadn’t expected to run into the other woman tonight.

_Careless_.

And while her boyfriend was reluctantly sunning himself where she’d left him in Costa del Sol, this morning, here was Aerith, obviously frightened, fleeing.

It reminded Cissnei of the reason she’d been called back to watch her. _If Zack only knew_ … he’d be back here himself in an instant, she thought, not without a trace of bitterness. But for Zack’s sake, she could do this. Do her job.

“Where are you going this late at night?” she asked Aerith, struggling to keep a slight slur from out of her voice.

Aerith jutted out her chin stubbornly. “On a journey,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

Cissnei laughed. “At night? You won’t even make it safely to the gates.” She motioned forward. “Look. If you’re really serious, I’ll escort you. Tseng would rip me apart if anything happened to you.” She’d call it in to Tseng as soon as she could.

“I’m Aerith,” she introduced herself.

“Cissnei,” was the other woman’s reply.

Aerith had never met this Turk before, but she had no doubt that all the Turks had memorized her name, her description, possibly her measurements. Even when she didn’t see them, she knew they were there, somewhere, in the shadows. Why, then, was this young lady helping her? She had no doubt Cissnei was capable; her grip on that giant shuriken of hers spoke of practiced use. But was Shinra willing to let her go so easily? Was Tseng somehow behind all this?

Or did they have something else in mind? Nevertheless, she was somewhat forced to trust the Turk, whatever her motivation. Aerith regretted now she had never learned to fight; surely she could have asked Zack to teach her the rudiments of _some_ kind of weapon. He couldn’t be there for her all the time; now, more than ever, she needed to be able to protect herself. She made a mental note to ask him when she saw him next. In the meantime… she’d take whatever help Cissnei was offering to get out of the city.

They’d stopped at the church, gathering a few belongings Aerith kept there. She followed Cissnei through the warren of haphazard slum streets until…

“My Materia!” She reached up to her bow, just now realizing what she was feeling missing. “We have to go back for it.” She tried to think back to when that soothing sensation had disappeared.

Cissnei stopped, puzzled. “It’s just a stupid materia. They’re everywhere. If you want a materia, I’ll give you one of mine.” She reached for the slots of Rekka. “Which kind do you want? Steal – no, you probably wouldn’t want that. Cure? Ice? We have tons of extras of those at headquarters.”

“No, no – you don’t understand.” _The church_. That was it. “I must have dropped it when we stopped at the church. It’s special – it was, um, my mother’s. We have to go back!”

Cissnei sighed. Even as she regretted the delay… _Something of Ifalna’s. Huh. I wonder if Tseng knows about it. I wonder if Hojo does, too._ ”Alright, we’ll retrace our steps,” she told Aerith. “But let’s hurry. The night is growing short.”

They backtracked, and Aerith drove like a beacon to the flowers. She watched Aerith rummage among the blooms. the flowers. Ethereal. Tender. So this was what made Zack Fair fall in love. SO unlike her, a killer raised and trained inside Shinra. How could she compete?

Aerith grasped something with a cry of delight. “Here it is!” she announced, triumphant, lifting up a small orb, no color of Materia Cissnei had ever seen before.

Cissnei exhaled a sigh of relief. “Alright, then, let’s get going.” She had only the rudiments of a plan in her head. Aerith was determined to make it outside of the city; she’d help her get that far. Then she’d glue herself to the girl’s side for as far as she could, until she could reach Tseng for directions. But before they could depart, well-trained ears detected the vaguest hint of disturbance at the church doors, and Cissnei was already wondering if they should run out the back.

A creak, the unwelcome visitors not even bothering to hide their entry. Cissnei tensed, gripping her beloved Rekka, already positioned for a throw. In her pocket, she flicked the panic button on her phone.

The three who entered were not who she expected, but on reflection, it really wasn’t a surprise. She certainly recognized them. AVALANCHE. Not just that, but their ringleaders. Fuhito. Sears.

_Elfe_.

The two men flanked the one woman, giving her the position of prominence. She felt Aerith’s nervous tension, the other woman hiding behind Cissnei for whatever protection she could provide.

Elfe, Cissnei knew, was the unquestioned leader, but she had never seen her in the flesh before. The woman was all haughty demeanor, eyes traveling over Cissnei to dismiss her out of hand, practically scornful of her as a possible threat. A prideful part of Cissnei was miffed. _If you only knew, woman, what I’ve done for Shinra in the past…_ Instead, she addressed her words to the quivering girl behind her.

“Aerith.” Her voice low, throaty. Confident. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Cissnei turned. Aerith’s wide green eyes were doubtful, wary. “What do you want from me?”

“You may have heard of us. We’re called AVALANCHE.” Aerith shifted uncomfortably. _So she DOES know who these people are. Zack must have told her._ Shinra secrecy or no, at the moment, Cissnei was grateful for that.

“We want to protect you… from Shinra.” Elfe’s eyes flickered towards Cissnei, condescending.

“So you can use me instead?’ Aerith was incredulous.

“Will Shinra really protect you?” Elfe challenged. “You know they are trying to use you to find the Promised Land, right?”

“Stand back,” Cissnei warned.

“Are you going to fight me yourself, little girl?” Elfe seemed amused.

“I’ve already called it in. Reinforcements will be her any moment.” She hoped upon hope that was indeed the case.

“You’re in pain,” Aerith suddenly burst out. “I can hear a presence crying out from within you.”

The man in the glasses – Fuhito – cleared his throat. “So it IS true, Elfe. She can hear the Planet.”

Elfe looked, oddly, at her forearm; Cissnei wondered. “How… can you tell such a thing?”

“I just… know,” Aerith replied. “I can tell. It’s… not a part of you. It’s the Planet fighting back. From inside of you. It’s going to destroy you from the inside out.”

Elfe just stared, meeting Aerith’s eyes for the longest moment. “I know,” she said, subdued.

A phone’s ringing echoed in the spacious church, and Sears reached into his pocket, stepping away to take the call. “You see, Aerith,” Fuhito started reasonably, “that’s why we need you to come with us. You are the only one who can help us out.”

“I’m tired of people just trying to use me,” Aerith replied, her voice now angry. “I’m not going anywhere with you, or the Turks, or anyone else.” _Except Zack,_ she mentally amended. _Only him…_

Sears stepped back, interrupting. “Elfe,” he told her. “It’s true. Our forces report that reinforcements are indeed on the way.” Cissnei gave a silent thanks to Tseng.

Elfe nodded, a gesture of command, and the two men shifted, poised to leave. “Think on it,” she addressed Aerith, but there was a warning in her words. “We’ll be back.” With that, the three left, a poised grace bearing no trace or urgency in their departure, assured that they would achieve their goal yet.

In the emptied church, Aerith looked at Cissnei, questioning, perturbed. “They say they will protect me, but they’re just out to get me too. At least I know who you guys are.”

“Aerith.” Cissnei didn’t know where the burst of sympathy came from. Affinity with the other woman, or misplaced feelings for Zack? Either way, did it matter? “Travel if you want to. Run to a place no one will find you. Zack will join you there, we can arrange it. If you stay here, Shinra, AVALANCHE, _someone_ will find you…”

Aerith contemplated. Her-half baked plan now seemed silly, a rush of panic that she hadn’t bothered to think all the way through. She couldn’t afford that kind of mistake. She’d thought to go find the Promised Land like her mother once told her… but… did she really need to do that when it was inside her, now? “I can’t run away,” she told Cissnei. “It would be... like letting them win. Besides, I don’t know if there is anywhere safe I could run to.”

Cissnei supposed that was probably true.

When they exited, Tseng was waiting for them at the entrance to the church. He’d let AVALNCHE leave; that was a problem for another day. The girl in his charge was his primary concern. “Aerith. Pleased to see you’re safe.”

“Tseng. It’s been a while.” Cissnei couldn’t help but notice Aerith’s surprising warm response.

“You can make it home alone from here?” Tseng asked.

Aerith laughed then, friendly, familiar. “You know I can. I’ve done it a hundred times. Guess I won’t be going as far as I thought tonight.” Her gaze passed between the two Turks; she waited for Tseng to give a polite nod of dismissal. “Cissnei. It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Aerith. Be safe.” Aerith trudged away, leaving the two Turks standing together, hints of secondhand sunlight signaling the breaking of dawn.

Tseng turned to his subordinate. “Cissnei. On it already.”

“Accident.” Cissnei realized that she was now stone cold sober, and wondered if Tseng would give her leave to fix that problem. “She’s… not what I expected. Tougher than I might have thought. Tseng, what are you planning to do with her?”

Tseng sighed, burdensome commitments comingling in his conscience, something always seeming to be warring with another. “ Rufus wants to bring her in. At least the President is keeping him on a leash for now. He can think whatever he wants.” Tseng paused. “I’ll wait as long as I have to for her to change her mind.”

And, he silently prayed, perhaps I can figure out a way to get her out of this.

*******

Aerith snuck back into the house, Elmyra still asleep, none the wiser. _What had she been thinking?_ That she was just going to run out of Midgar, somehow make it all on her own?

She’d leave one of these days, but she didn’t want to leave alone.

He note was still on the table where she had left it, scribbled handwriting betraying her hurry. Picking it up, she stared at it for a long time, before tearing it up into small angry bits, leaving the pieces nonchalantly scattered across the table as she traveled up the stairs back to bed.

The excitement of the night battled with sheer exhaustion, and Aerith found herself staring at the ceiling as the day broke above. Her volatile emotions surged into anger, frustrating her with lack of a discernible outlet. She wanted to take it out on someone, anyone, but in the recesses of her head, only the Planet would listen. _Why did you tell me to do it,_ she silently berated it; the Planet gave no response. _Why, if you weren’t planning to protect me?_

It wouldn’t be much longer she could hide it from her mother; a month, two at the most. If Elmyra’s maternal instincts weren’t telling her something already. She knew she would have to tell her soon enough; her mother was one she could be certain she could trust. Nevertheless, part of her wanted to keep it secret just a little bit longer ,until she could share it with the other half.

_Zack, please come back…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added Cissnei to the character list. I decided she's helping me out enough that she's earned it. I don't know what role she might play past the Crisis Core sequence. I suppose she'll let me know on her own in due time.
> 
> I’ve been getting asked about my update schedule, so here it is. I don’t really have a schedule, as much as a system. I try to make sure that I give writing at least a couple hours a day (right now it’s usually more because of COVID-19 quarantine), and then… when the chapter is done, it’s done. I find the characters usually let me know on their own when things are ready.
> 
> In the meantime, I try to keep several chapters ahead moderately fleshed out so I don’t lose track of the narrative. But I DO have things written all the way to the end. Some chapters are basically done (even waaaaay down the line), others are more skeletal. It just all depends.
> 
> So now you know.


	15. May 0002-September 0002

Her birthday passed, and Tifa rejoiced.

Every day was a challenge, but inch by inch, she was growing, changing. Months of pain and struggle were paying off. Her body was slowly being transformed into something long and lean, powerful. She was conscious in a new way of its every motion, every sensation, and she relished in the experience. Unlike her first round of development, these were not changes that left boys talking to her chest instead of her eyes – not that there was anyone much left in town look. Instead, the outside was slowly reshaping to reflect the inside. Endurance, strength.

Spirit.

But all good things had to come to an end, and Zangan had begun dropping hints. “I’ve been here a long time, Tifa,” he told her. “You know I don’t like to stay in one place for very long. More than a half year in one place… that’s unheard of for me.”

“Stay,” she’d urge him. “One more day.” And he’d nod, and somehow it would be another day, and another, and another.

Truthfully, she thought it was the tightness of their bond that kept her teacher in place. They’d grown very close- not in _that_ way, thank-you-very-much – but Zangan was more like… an older brother? He was older than her father by fifteen years. Grandfather? That didn’t suit him at all. She called him Master, but the title was so informal at this point that it was practically a nickname.

Mentor. _Friend_.

She needed more of those.

She flooded her joys into the piano now, the vibrations of soothing melodies lulling her cat to sleep as it curled on the top of the instrument, purring as if in time with her rhythm. But every now and then, nostalgia would kick in, and she’d find herself playing the same songs as when she and Cloud were children together.

He’d never been bold enough to admit it, but she’d always known he was listening, and she remembered how sometimes, that little girl liked to play something special just for him.

He had been such a child – but then again, so had she. He had been so adorable - that hopeless blond hair, those big blue eyes. Two years was plenty of time for him to hit his growth spurt, fill out some. _And all those girls in the city…_

She shushed the thought. She hardly had any claim on him, except the promise she’d extracted, terrified (more than with any of her other friends, a fact that still surprised her) at his leaving.

But in the time since he’d left, womanhood had settled into her a whole new set of feelings, ones that reminded her over and over she was child no longer. Her body let her know with new responses, sensitive spots she hadn’t expected, aware of being _female_ in way she hadn’t realized would be happening. It was as if every step she took reminded her of curves, elements of her body still filling in with no real sign of stopping.

She thought of Cloud in a very _different_ way now, one that would have shocked her even a year before when they made their promise. Thoughts of him sent warm heat through her body, and she found her hand sliding down to touch herself in the new ways she had discovered.

It had been quite by accident she had discovered yet another thing her body could do, pleasurable sensitivity building up until one day, with a gasp, it _spiked_ , leaving her goggled-eyed and panting with surprise.

_So that’s what it’s about…_

Another mystery solved.

Which brought her to the question of what that might be like with… someone else.

She tried to picture what Cloud looked like now. The planes of his face that had started to form, sharpened. Nascent muscle giving way to toned arms, the thought of them wrapping around her giving her shivers. _Did he grow up to be tall_ , she wondered? _Or was he doomed to be forever on the short side?_

She didn’t care either way.

She knew she was building him up in her head, but that was all he had left her with. She wondered why he didn’t write. Claudia had heard nothing either, she said, a mother’s worry creasing her brow. That made Tifa feel, unfortunately, better. She looked for him in the newspapers as promised, and it was _Sephiroth, Sephiroth, Sephiroth_ , and occasionally names of others she did not recognize.. None of them were Cloud Strife.

Did he even think of Nibelheim?

Did he even think of _her_?

She wondered when she would see him again, desire and fantasy slowly morphing into determination. She was a little embarrassed to admit it even to herself…

_Cloud, there’s something I want to tell you.. no, something I want to ask you._

There wasn’t anyone in the village she thought of this way. Nor, truthfully, anyone who had _left_ the village. But she was a woman now.

Gazing out the window, she took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. She pictured him taking her in his arms and kissing her gently, until she finally whispered in his ear…

_I’m… still a virgin…_

Picturing him over and over, kissing her, touching her… how would the rest feel? Would he know what to do? Would she? Or would instinct just take over from there? She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. And the feelings wouldn’t go away.

_I was wondering… would you… be my first?_

Part of her didn’t want to go through with it, embarrassed and shy at the thought… but part of her very much did.

She kept willing for him to come home.

_Just say the word, and I will….._

*******

The cat was being a nuisance. Again.

_It must be part dog_ , Tifa thought, not for the first time. It ran away to roam, but always came loyally back to her, unwavering loyalty to owner that was so uncommon among cats.

But she knew the dangers of the mountains, and didn’t want her pet torn to pieces by an errant wolf, or become a tasty appetizer for one of Nibel’s dragons. She hurtled through the mountains, familiar now with every twist and turn of the trail. The mountain was another home to her now, where she could relish in her solitude, now confident of her ability to ward of f danger.

SO she couldn’t believe her eyes when she ran into a small red-haired woman, barely older than she herself – wearing a _suit_ of all things.

“What are you doing here?” the other woman asked.

“Looking for my cat,” Tifa replied flatly. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that instead?”

The other woman seemed surprised at the question. “I’m.. with Shinra,” she replied carefully. “I’m Cissnei.”

“Oh, you must be here for the reactor then,” Tifa answered.

“I can’t really say,” Cissnei hedged.

Tifa looked skeptical. “Are you sure you even know your way around?”

Cissnei didn’t. She’d made it to the reactor after her emergency landing high on the peak, inspected it and seen the dragons guarding the entrance, called in to Tseng that this was a job for SOLDIER. And now she was lost.

Out of nowhere, a medium-sized white cat tore towards Tifa, and as she reached down, it leaped into her arms. She murmured to her pet, soothing nonsense, the cat obviously pleased to have found its mistress once again.

“That cat seems to know its way around,” Cissnei observed.

“It knows the mountains as well as I do myself,” Tifa announced proudly. “That’s how you know it’s a Nibelheim cat. But, seriously, you’ve obviously never been here before, and we’re really high up. How, exactly, were you planning to get to the bottom?”

“There’s, uh, a secret ropeway for Shinra employees,” Cissnei admitted. “I was planning to use that to get back down.”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ where that is!” Tifa announced brightly. _So much for “secret”,_ thought Cissnei.

She’d been prepared to defend the other woman on the journey to the ropeway, but to Cissnei’s surprise, Tifa could _fight_. With her bare hands, no less. As she watched the young woman brutalize all sorts of creatures infecting the mountain, she wondered what Rude would think about Tifa’s technique. Who had taught her way out here, anyway?

The ropeway soon came into view, and she and Tifa loaded on along with the erstwhile cat. Cissnei entered the passcode, and the cable creaked above them, long-disused mechanism slowly whirring to life.

Tifa stared out the window dreamily, admiring the scenery. The cat purred in her lap, content. “Say, Cissnei,” she asked out of the blue. “Do you know people in SOLDIER?”

“Some,” Cissnei demurred. “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering… do you know someone in SOLIDER named Cloud?”

_Cloud_ … such an unusual name… could it be a coincidence? She remembered Cloud, sure enough, but though his file indicated he was making steady progress, he definitely wasn’t in SOLDIER yet.

“I don’t think so,” Cissnei replied. She didn’t miss the disappointment in Tifa’s eyes. “Who is he to you, anyway? Some one important?”

“Someone who made me a promise once,” Tifa replied. But before she could explain further…

The ropeway was pulling into its terminus, and the ancient, rusted chain gave a deep groan. In an instant, Cissnei realized what was happening. “Get off!” she cried to Tifa, half-shoving her out the door, the terrified cat leaping forward out of her arms, Cissnei hustling behind her as the creaking peaked to a dull whine, she barely making it off in time to turn around and see the fibers of the cable fray and tear. In less than a minute, the cable _snapped,_ sending the car crashing to the forest below, shockwaves reverberating through the solid rock of the mountain.

She turned to Tifa, the girl wide-eyes with fear. The cat sidled close, rubbing her legs with soft meows as if to soothe its owner. “I…” Tifa swallowed. “I thought something from Shinra would… um… hold together.”

“Poor maintenance.” Cissnei snorted. _Probably the same reason the reactor is such a mess_ , she thought. “Do you mind waiting a moment? I have to call this in.”

Tifa only nodded, still staring where the car had nearly taken them down with it.

Cissnei stepped aside, opening her phone and dialing. Tseng picked up on the first ring, anticipating her report. In a few words, she gave him the update. “Find someone who knows the mountain to guide us up.”

“I think maybe I already have,” Cissnei replied. Briskly efficient, she ended the call with a snap.

She walked back to where Tifa awaited. “Tifa, you said you know this mountain well. Would you be able to guide a group up to the reactor?”

“Of course. Easy.” Tifa looked at her with shades of suspicion creasing auburn eyes. “Why?”

“Because they’re getting serious,” Cissnei replied, bringing need-to-know information to light. “By tomorrow, SOLDIER will be coming to Nibelheim.”


	16. September 0002

Junon. Tseng and Cissnei at his back. It felt good to be in uniform again.

The city was overrun by Genesis’s forces, but Zack found himself on guard duty instead, trying to tell himself he was doing the most important part. It only really hit home when he confronted Genesis at the top of Upper Junon, two clones stealing Hollander away.

Zack cursed.

He could only stare into the sunset as his prey escaped him, Cissnei and Tseng running forward before him. There was nothing more he could do. Cleanup was theirs, now.

He awaited – and, behind him came a voice he hadn’t heard in a while.

_Failed mission_ , the words fell on his deaf ears. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he could think of was heeding Sephiroth’s warning – _more Genesis clones attacking Midgar_ \- couched in permission to return. He didn’t need to be told twice. He wanted – _needed_ \- to get back to Midgar. Back to Aerith.

On the way back, slouching through the wreckage of the attack, he sighted a lone trooper leaning on a lamppost. He caught sight of a familiar mess of blonde hair, a chocobo tangle that could only belong to one person.

“Cloud?” he called to his friend. “Damn, buddy, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Even before Costa. When had they gone out motorcycle riding anyway? Too long. He’d seen Cloud what, once, maybe twice since. “You feeling okay there?”

“Ughhh,” Cloud mumbled. “I’ll be okay. Just that motion sickness again. Still haven’t gotten over it.” He forced himself to straighten. “Wow, Zack, it’s been so long that I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

“No way, man. I don’t forget my friends. “ Despite not having seen Cloud, he’d been checking up on the other man’s progress reports, pleased to see he was proceeding as expected. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Boring army stuff. At least I’m at the level now where they give us some sword training. Really like that.” Cloud smiled briefly, shades of cheer. “I just got here. Rescue work. Cleanup stuff. Won’t take long and I’ll be heading back to Midgar again. “ He belched. “Not looking forward to another helicopter ride.”

“That’s important stuff, too. Do your best. Look, I gotta go, but when things are settled, we’ll go out to eat and catch up, alright? I’ll take you someplace a grunt can’t afford. My treat.”

“I’d like that.” Zack waved, and he was off and running, a new spring in his step. Cloud marched resolutely forward, bolstered by the other man’s confidence in him, hoping it wasn’t misplaced. Zack was something not icy or unreachable, rather more attainable, something Cloud could believe in. That all the months he’d been slugging it out in the regular army was actually going somewhere. His easy camaraderie had gotten Cloud through all these months, making him feel there might be hope for him yet.

That perhaps he still might be SOLDIER.

*******

Whatever it wanted, it sure wasn’t food.

The strange griffon-like creature had taken up residence in the rafters of the church a week before, and it seemed to have no particular intention of leaving. Aerith had been instinctively frightened, but after she had gotten over the shock, she’d allowed herself to reach out with her heart, feeling its pain and sadness. Not a monster – just another being.

“Why are you here?” she asked it. “What brought you here, anyway?”

The speechless creature gave no hint of an answer; Aerith touched one hand to her stomach, wondering. Impulsively, she picked a flower, the bloom cheerfully speaking back to her, and lifted it up above her.

It stretched its wings, gracefully landing down, attracted by the petals’ scent. She felt the flower, the life within it, reaching out; and the creature responded in kind, staring in wonder into the stamens and pistils of the center, as if inhaling the scent. She reached up, gently stroking its head, shiny scales strangely velvet to the touch.

_Looks like it’s here to stay…_ Maybe Zack couldn’t be here, but it gave her a seventh sense of glittered comfort nonetheless.

*******

Cleanup was a bitch, but it was what Turks did.

Tseng was left with Cissnei, overlooking the top of the Junon cannon. They’d gathered all the intelligence they could here for now; already, there were more pressing concerns. Unnerving rumors coming from remote reactors all across the world. Malfunctions? AVALANCHE?

_Something else?_ Some Shinra secret buried so deep even _he_ couldn’t ferret it out? _Rufus_ – he must know, but certainly wasn’t telling. Was it connected to the Vice President’s adamant position to take Aerith in as soon as possible?

Zack was back in Midgar; the orders were already in place, just waiting for the results of the Turks’ scouting to come in. He’d added him to the roster, wanting a local on hand; the trooper was seasoned enough to handle it. He’d hoped, as well, this might give Cloud his chance to shine. “Cissnei,” he turned to his companion, “You’re all set to go to Nibelheim, then?”

“I’m on it.” Cissnei clipped, efficient.

“Just investigate, to start. Get back to me as soon as there’s an update on the situation there.” What on Gaia was going on in Shinra’s oldest reactor?

*******

Zack bounded up the stairs two at a time, full of worry for Aerith, Sephiroth’s words heavy on his mind. He’d been away too long. Was she alright?

He threw the doors wide open to a startled Aerith, unknown beast hovering over her. His sword was out in a flash. He barreled down the aisle of the church, armed and ready.

“Zack, no!” Aerith cried.

Zack screeched to a halt, assessing. The thing’s wings flapped lazily, poised for takeoff but still guarding what appeared to be its mistress. _What is it? What is it doing here?_

It raised, lengthened its neck, and Zack gasped in shock. _Angeal’s face?_ Another clone, a bizarre version of the clones he’d met – another monster with the copied traits of his deceased mentor?

Was Angeal’s spirit here, watching over Aerith?

A whirr behind him, and through the open doors, a trio of mechanical guardians, some new prototype out of the Weapons department, squealed and cranked into the church.

Even before Zack could react, Angeal’s copy lurched into the air, slamming into the mechs, a shower of steel and sparks. He leaped to block Aerith as they exploded, and within seconds, smoldering piles of dented metal were the only remnants of Shinra’s technology. The creature crumbled, falling to its side, one wing wearily lapping the air above.

Aerith felt its flash of pain. By her side, Zack enclosed her in one protective arm, waiting, tensed. Stumbling slightly, it rose, stretching awkward wings, testing gingerly, before it rose with a strangely majestic grace back to its nesting spot above.

“Huh.” Zack was puzzled.

“Zack... I think it was here… to... protect us.” _Protect me, while you were gone_.

Zack sighed, not yet relinquishing alertness. Disgruntled, he called above. “You! Whatever you are! Behave yourself! Stay right where you are, you hear me?” _I’m here now. I’ll take care of her myself_. Bitterly, he thought that grateful though he might be, he wished he could have been here to care for her on his own. She was _his_ responsibility - he didn’t much like entrusting her safety to others.

At least he had a little precious time to spend with her before he was called off again.

Aerith quietly observed. Her handsome SOLDIER, ready to take on anything and everything. For _her_ , the sense of safety radiating from his presence settling into her world. He didn’t realize, he didn’t need to try so hard; he was her hero, no matter what, whether he was fighting to protect her or…

“You promised to help me build that flower wagon,” she suddenly remembered.

Zack straightened, confused. “A flower wagon? You want to do that _now_?”

“Why not? You’ve been promising me for a long time,” she teased him in reminder. His puppy-dog expression lit up, swimming with the new objective he’d been given; she waited, charmed, as he bounded off with enthusiasm to seek the needed parts, leaving behind him his reiteration of his promise that when she went up the plate to sell them, he’d go with her.

Somehow, she knew as long as he was with her, everything would be alright.

Soon enough, he’d returned with everything they needed, and she stood, fascinated, as the pieces slowly came together…

It was pretty, it really was. He’d stopped for more pink fabric; Aerith had tied those in bows, wide scoops of color falling to brighten up the sides. She stood back, looking over the finished product. She knew Zack had poured his love into it; the vague dissatisfaction she felt had nothing to do with the wagon itself. Perhaps she couldn’t help but think about the way he bore his heart, even as he was still tied to Shinra, his loyalties forever doomed to be divided.

Now more than ever, it wasn’t just for herself. Was it selfish of her to want him only for her own? Somehow, the wagon was a symbol of all he could and couldn’t give her; somehow, despite his best efforts, it never being enough.

All her little wishes for him, for them… but the one most of all. _The one_.

While Zack picked up the call, she knowing full well this would be yet again he was taken away from her, she held pen and paper, thinking. How would she tell him everything she needed to say?

Even in writing, somehow it wouldn’t come out. She was still so frightened of telling him. She found herself writing a single sentence.

_I’d like to spend more time with you._

It never failed. Just when he thought he might finally, FINALLY have some time with Aerith, after a month without her, the call back to headquarters came.

He hung up the phone, eyes downcast. She didn’t need to be told.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to face her.

“Here.” She took his hand , turning him to her, pressing a piece of paper into his palm.

_All her little wishes_. Zack looked at the slip, and sunshine reached his eyes. “Go ahead,” she urged him. “The flower wagon will be waiting. We’ll go sell flowers when you’re done, alright?”

Hand in his pocket, he stroked her tiny note, fingering the reminder of his angel below. Bliss faded as the grey oppression of Shinra rampaged back, weighing more with every floor he rose up to the 49th.

He barely bothered to hide his irritation as Sephiroth gave him the briefing. _Genesis. Hollander. More of the same._ Did it ever end?

But the real surprise was when Sephiroth told him…

_Abandoning Shinra? Sephiroth?_

The thought was, well, unthinkable.

Perhaps he had recently been sulking so deep that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t the only one disillusioned so. He considered. Genesis and Angeal were Sephiroth’s close friends. Was the man left… _adrift_ … without them? Did Sephiroth have anyone left he could count on, anyone who truly meant something to him, bonds he could draw on for a true SOLDIER’s strength?

Was Sephiroth just a puppet of Shinra too?

Leaving the briefing, he couldn’t get that trail of thought out of his head. He’d been turning it over and over, no answers in sight, barely paying attention to his surroundings when he nearly bumped into…

“Zack!” Kunsel greeted him warmly. “I just heard. They’re sending you out with Sephiroth, huh?” Kunsel told him.

“Yeah. Nibelheim. Something with the reactor.” Some nonsense errand he’d be running for the company again.

“I think everyone’s getting assigned to a remote reactor. I’m being sent off to Fort Condor.”

“Yeah.” Zack looked downwards. “You know, man, I’m getting really tired of this. I just got back from Costa, went straight to Junon, saw Aerith for like five minutes, and now they’re shipping me out to the boonies again.”

“It’s hard to be in love,” Kunsel said with empathy. “At least you’re a First. Maybe you should start taking advantage of that. If Sephiroth can turn down missions, so can you.” He stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Tell you what. If I get back before you do, I’ll stop and look in on her for you, okay?”

That mollified Zack somewhat. Kunsel was the only one of his buddies Aerith had ever met – she’d trust him. “Thanks, man,” he told his friend. “I’m sure she’d really appreciate it.”

“Anytime. She’s a great girl. Better go see her while you have some time still.”

Zack didn’t need to be told twice.

*******

Zack, going away again. Work, always work…

Aerith wished she could be angry, but really, she was only angry at herself. She should have known… getting involved with SOLDIER. Getting involved with anyone from Shinra probably wasn’t the wisest choice, but love was love, wasn’t it?

She wanted so much to tell him, before she missed her chance… again. His promise they’d go up to the plate, underneath another promise implied - that he’d be by her side. But even more… there was another promise, deep inside her.

Would it change anything if she told him? Would he stay? _Could_ he stay?

He’d promised he’d be back in no time. If only that could be a guarantee.

Her throat dry, she squeezed out, “Can I call you?” His enthusiastic “yes” would have to be enough for now.

She’d enjoy however long she could steal him away for now.

Reaching the park, Aerith casually pushed the wagon full of colorful blooms. The flowers themselves had given their okay to be sold. To spread that little but of connection to the Planet, to remind people what was important.

How much like a baby carriage it looked…

She had her doubts but it was too late to go back. She’d heard that voice of the Planet, urging her to use her power, her connection, to make life happen.

The life that was inside her now.

Zack, so gentle, so charming. So _oblivious_. It was too soon for anything to show on the outside, but soon enough she wouldn’t be able to hide it.

She knew. She should go ahead and tell him. Now was the time. But what if she did? Would he end up distracted on his mission, careless? Would she put him in danger if he knew?

She couldn’t be sure.

He was such a boy himself at heart, this handsome SOLDIER with his giant sword accosting the passers-by, intimidating them into buying flowers, sorely unaware of the impression he made. His childlike embarrassment as he lost her customer, she laughing, throwing her arms around him, kissing to tell him it was alright, she just wanted to spend the time with him.

He was going to be such a wonderful father.

She let him go only when a little boy approached the wagon, her heart filled with enthusiasm and joy.

Zack watched Aerith, smiling inside. Here he’d been so ashamed of disappointing her, and she’d laughed his embarrassment away, covering him with those kisses that let him know she was the one.

A flash of motion caught his eye, and if it belonged to who he thought it did, it meant that person wanted to be seen. Leaving Aerith talking to the boy, he plodded through the sand of the playground.

“Hello, Tseng,” he said, even before he rounded the moogle slide behind which the man hid. “Spying on Aerith again?”

Tseng was nonplussed. “You’re going away for a while, aren’t you? Don’t you want to know someone is keeping Aerith safe?”

Zack crossed his arms and _harrumphed_ , none too pleased with the arrangement. Leaving her under the watchful eye of Tseng… it didn’t sit well with him. The man was an uncertain friend at best, a lukewarm ally at worst. The Turk always had that sign of being one step ahead of him, always knowing something Zack did not. He hoped he was doing the right thing, trusting Aerith’s safety to his hands. If Zack couldn’t be there himself, he supposed Tseng was the next best thing.

He was uncharacteristically agitated, unsure why. “I’m counting on you. Don’t let me down!” he told Tseng, turning back towards the woman he loved.

He pulled her close to him, turning her face to his, sealing his every promise with a kiss, deep and profound. The sort of kiss that made Aerith want so much more, to tumble to the flowers with him once again… but he couldn’t stay the night. He couldn’t even stay five more minutes.

Shinra waited on no one.

But she would see him when he returned. And then… and then…

*******

Zack was in a shitty mood. All this time he’d spent working his way up in Shinra… was it even worth it? Being away from Aerith, more and more nothing but frustration. The tradeoff wasn’t fair.

Inwardly, he snickered at his inadvertent pun.

He was walking, sulking, through the corridors of the 49th floor once again when he turned a corner, nearly running into a trooper. One of the men he was supposed to be leading. All composed SOLDIER attitude , he opened his mouth to bark out orders, until…

“ _Cloud_???” he burst out in surprise, and suddenly the glum fell away. His younger friend’s jovial innocence, so much of which Zack felt like he had lost, infected him. _Eagerness to get out, a mission an occasion for excitement, anticipation –_

“So glad to be working with you, buddy!” he said, offering up a high five, and meaning every word.

“I know, right? I didn’t know where they were assigning me next, but they hustled me onto this assignment as soon as I was off the helicopter.” Cloud smiled. “Didn’t know you were on this too. Must be important, huh?”

“Eh, who knows. Probably just some rote bullshit. But hey, we gotta do what we gotta do.” Cloud hastily assured him that he’d round up the other troops, leaving Zack with nothing to do but wait for Sephiroth. As he watched Cloud barrel off, his spirits lifted – and he thought how far Cloud had come.

Cloud didn’t know he had a surprise waiting for him when they got back. A birthday present. Well, a late birthday present, but since when had Zack been on time for birthdays?

Cloud was due to retake the SOLDIER exam on the next round. He’d have to do that part on his own – but this time, Zack was sure that he would pass.

And when he did – it was filed and sealed. By Sephiroth, no less, as the reluctant acting leader. Zack had been hanging on to the form for a while, but by sheer coincidence, had turned it on only minutes before.

_Sponsorship by Zack Fair, First Class._

Zack was really looking forward to that.

Zack waited, impatient, for Sephiroth’s arrival; he saw Cloud’s eyes widen when the man finally entered the room. _Had he himself ever been this starstruck?_ The general, as always, didn’t disappoint, radiating presence before him, something aloof, otherworldly almost.

Cloud stood up as straight as all five feet nine inches of him could, intimidated by his hero’s presence. He maintained awestruck composure, until Sephiroth announced their destination, with that one single word unnerving every fiber of his being…

_Nibelheim_. Cloud’s hometown. Zack observed his friend’s shocked look, wondering how he himself would have reacted if Sephiroth had announced “ _Gongaga_ ” so casually. After all this time…

_Cloud, like it or not, you’re going home._


	17. September 22, 0002-September 29,0002

The town gates, open wide, no welcoming embrace, but seemed to Cloud a gaping mouth, ready to swallow him up. It wasn’t the homecoming he’d been expecting; he’d wanted to return, proud, heralded, not embarrassed and afraid to show his face. His mask was hot and stuffy; it was starting to make him sick. But that was nothing compared to the butterflies in his stomach.

He’d meant to come home a hero. SOLDIER First Class. Now he knew how naïve he had been. How far away he really was from those lofty goals he’d carried with him to Midgar. But he’d made his brash affirmations, and now he couldn’t deliver.

Most of the guys he had fought with would be gone. He didn’t much care about that. The one person he did care about was –

_Tifa_.

It took a moment for his eyes to spot her, across the town square, talking to Zack – but as soon as she entered his vision, his eyes zoomed on her until he could see nothing else. Instinctively, he shrank away.

He remembered with vivid clarity the promise they had made under the stars, the beautiful girl asking for him to be her hero. She was prettier than ever. Girlish still, but ever more filled out than when he had seen her last, getting closer to the shape she would finalize in as a woman... Which was she really? Girl, or woman? Somewhere right in that hazy gray shape in between. He noted with satisfaction that at the very least, he was now taller than her.

It broke his heart to be so close to the image that had filled his dreams, kept him going through long days and lonelier nights. So close, in both space and time, but unable to touch, to speak.

Tifa struggled to conceal her disappointment. She’d been awake half the night, churning with excitement at the thought of seeing Cloud again… but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, she got… _this_ guy. First Class, he’d said, just like Sephiroth; she’d barely even seen the famous general, but even so, her striking impression was icy, unreachable. This SOLDIER – Zack - was different.

“They only sent two of you?” she asked in surprise.

“Hey, that’s TWO First Classes!” he grinned, mock-offended. “Just ONE is more than enough for any job.”

“Oh,” she replied indifferently. She dwelled on blonde-spiked hair and cerulean eyes, nighttime fantasies of kisses and touches. His face, a blur where she’d had to fill in details unknown, over a man’s torso wrapping strong arms around her. “Are there many first classes like you guys?”

“Nope! It takes a lot to make it up to the elite!” Zack laughed, trying to charm this village girl into at least a smile. She only seemed disappointed.

He sighed in defeat. She was the mayor’s daughter; by extension, it was essentially her granting him the hospitality of the town. “Well, we’ll be here for a few days. Look, here’s my PHS number if you need anything.” Hurriedly, he scribbled down the digits and handed them to her. She looked at the paper, only nodding before she ran off without so much as a goodbye.

Huh. _Weird girl_.

“Cloud,” the trooper heard a voice coming from behind him as he stared after Tifa’s departure. He turned in surprise. “Cissnei, how did you know it was me?”

“I’m a Turk,” she told him. “I’m supposed to know these things.”

“Fair enough.” Cloud replied. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I was here to scout out the area. Find a guide.” She nodded to the empty spot where Tifa had lately been standing. “She’s going to be your guide up the mountain.”

“Tifa?” Cloud gasped in panic. Butterflies threatened to turn into barf.

“Huh. So you DO know her,” Cissnei mulled. “She asked me about you.”

Cloud gulped. “She really did? What did you tell her?”

“I said I wasn’t sure. Because I wasn’t.” She looked at Cloud squarely. “Why are you keeping on the helmet, anyway?”

Embarrassed, he looked around hastily to assure himself that Tifa was gone before taking it off. “It’s complicated.” Cloud brushed off the question. “I… made her a promise once. I told her… I’d come save her if she ever needed me.” He paused. “I told her I’d be her hero. That I’d come back home as SOLDIER. I can’t stand to let her know I didn’t keep that promise.” Cissnei felt sympathetic, thought she though Cloud was selling himself short. “Look, ah, can you do me a favor? Don’t tell Tifa I’m here, OK?”

“I didn’t realize you were from Nibelheim,” Cissnei replied. How had she overlooked that detail in his file? That must have been why he’d been placed on the mission. It was all starting to make sense. But nowhere had been noted this complication of a childhood crush; some things slipped even beneath the Turks’ notice. “I understand. Ok, I won’t tell her. On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Cloud asked.

“Don’t tell Zack I’m here, OK?”

“Remaining undercover?”

“Something like that. It’s… complicated,” Cissnei dodged, echoing Cloud’s answer.

She was already composing a longer explanation, but Cloud didn’t press. _One of Zack’s best friends – will he keep a secret from him?_ “Agreed,” he finally said.

She slipped away, allowing Cloud to rejoin the SOLDIER party waiting for him at the gates of the inn. Cloud slammed the helmet back on his head, wondering how long this mission would last and if he really could remain hidden from Tifa the whole time.

Predictably, Zack called him out. “What are you wearing that mask for? Must be awful.” He looked up the sunshine. “I didn’t realize it would actually be this warm up here. Must be the reactor, huh?”

  
“It’s personal.” Cloud put a note of finality in his sentence.

Zack clapped him on the back. Sephiroth merely stood there, impatient. “Cloud, sometimes you are such a weirdo, you know that? Aren’t you going to go visit your family, at least? You gonna keep that on at your mom’s house?”

“Yeah… maybe.” Zack couldn’t figure out what was holding Cloud back... He’d have thought Cloud would be excited to be back home after all this time. Zack could only shrug in confusion. “Well, whatever you feel like doing, buddy. Don’t stay out too late. We’ve got a long day coming up, tomorrow.”

*******

_Mako comes from the Lifestream, and the Lifestream is made up of souls…_

_The mountain is proof those people lived._

Claudia’s voice, years ago, coming up from her memories as she stared into the twinkling of the Mako fountain. _It really is here…_ As far as Tifa had explored, she’d had no idea of the secrets the mountain held inside.

Sephiroth droned on. “…knowledge of the Ancients… binds us to the Planet… we use our connections to call forth powerful magic…”

It made sense to Zack. It was the same thing that he’d learned in SOLDIER, using memory and emotion to center your strength. He had those closest to him that he recalled to find his courage inside, but how much stronger must it be to be able to call on all the wisdom of those who had ever lived? All in those little balls of materia. Fascinating. He’d never even realized that was what he was doing.

One word caught his ear as Sephiroth spoke. _Ancients._ Cissnei had told him Aerith was an Ancient. How did that all fit in with magic, with materia? So far, he hadn’t let on that he was privy to her secret, but one day soon, he was going to have to ask. It was something a husband should know about his wife, right?

Tifa’s hand stretched out, and Sephiroth paused. “I wouldn’t do that, young lady. With a natural spring like this… You might be overwhelmed by all the voices inside. It takes a strong will to resist them. SOLDIERs have prior exposure. Anyone else is likely to be swallowed up, poisoned, somewhere between the Lifestream and the world.”

Tifa thought she could handle it, but she shrank away nonetheless. _All those thoughts and memories…_ even the IDEA of it was overwhelming, experiencing the Lifestream in full. What would that be like?

An idle thought occurred to her. _If we are using Mako as energy, could it run out?_ Sephiroth would probably know the answer… but she found herself terrified to ask.

She noticed the quiet trooper with them had gotten close, he reaching out as well, though not as far as she; Tifa totally understood. Something was compelling, undeniable. It drew you in. Even from where she stood, it was as if she felt supremely _connected_ , one with everything of life.

_Such a shy guy,_ she thought. He hadn’t said so much of a word the whole way up; he seemed so bashful that it left Tifa too embarrassed to even ask his name. Perhaps after this she’d have a chance to talk to him…

*******

_Genesis… alive…_

_Sephiroth, still inside the reactor, scornful of his old friend._

_Angeal, whereabouts still unknown…_

…and above all, those terrifying abominations within the pods…

Zack’s thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt, as he exited the reactor to a thunderous scene of disaster.

Monsters, far more than Cloud could deal with alone; as he watched, the trooper fell to the ground, attacked by one of Genesis’s spawns. Tifa stood poised and ready to fight, as if the slender girl had a chance against these creatures. His sword whisked forwards, and he leapt in front of Tifa, the girl wide-eyed and trembling slightly; he wasn’t sure if it was their enemies, or HIM, that he feared more.

He dispatched the clones in barely an instant. Zack turned behind him to see Tifa leaning over Cloud gently, tenderly reaching a hand to him - and Zack wondered. “He… protected me,” she said, both surprise and awe in her voice.

Cloud, immediately down for the count, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying. “I have a Cure materia back at the inn,” Zack said, cursing his arrogance, thinking it wouldn’t be needed. “Can’t do anything in the field.”

Tifa gulped. “I… I think I can support him back,” she said.

Zack nodded. “We’ll do it together, then. I’ll clear the way up front. We’ll take it slow, OK? Just stay close to me.”

Tifa nodded, and not without some difficulty, hauled Cloud up to his feet. The man half-stumbled, half-leaned on her, as she bravely began the slow and arduous task of helping Cloud down the mountain. She was under obvious strain, but kept determination in her gait; Zack mentally revised his opinion of her.

_Stronger than I thought, inside and out._

Not unlike Cloud himself…

He wanted to ask her about Cloud, but other tasks were more pressing. The trip was long, tedious, Zack continually looking back to check on Tifa and Cloud - she unwavering in her step, he stumbling forward semi-lucid. Eventually, they made it back into town, and with a grunt of relief, Tifa propped Cloud against the wall of the inn. Cloud hung his head, holding himself up with hands on knees, clarity slowly coming back.

Tifa looked around, nonchalant. “I’ll see if I can find out about Sephiroth.” So she HADN’T failed to notice he was missing. Zack had no idea where the general had gone. “You have my PHS number,” he told her, and she turned to go.

“Tifa,” he said, and she looked behind her. He met her in the eyes.

“Thank you,” was all he told her, and with a nod of acknowledgement, she was gone.

With nothing to be done about Sephiroth, he turned to the problems he _could_ control. Cloud stood, awkwardly, but didn’t resist Zack’s arm as Zack half-dragged him up the stairs, plopped him on one bed, and sat on the other to watch vigil over his friend.

Consciousness flooded back to Cloud abruptly, and he pulled himself to sitting, a headache ramming his skull.

“She’s safe,” he heard Zack’s voice.

Cloud could remember the feeling of his arm over her shoulders as she helped him stand, kindness in her hold, taking him back to the girl he had promised himself to under the stars. The warmth of her nearness suffused him still, contact he’d so wished for… and look how it had happened! Fantasies shot to hell. _My first chance to keep that promise to her… and I make a fool of myself instead._

His only consolation was that Tifa didn’t know who he was.

“If only I were in SOLDIER…” Cloud let the thought trail off into regret.

Zack sighed. SOLDIER… Cloud wanted in, but more and more, Zack was wondering if he wanted OUT. Someplace where innocence and love could survive. “Do you… know Tifa?” he asked, considering.

Cloud hung his head, embarrassed. “Sort of,” he replied.

_A-ha. That explained a lot._ “Talk to her?”

“No,” Cloud admitted, drooping.

Zack’s mind was whirring faster and faster. Perhaps he could help do something, spur this couple on their way. Truthfully, he was a bit jealous. How long had Cloud been carrying a torch for her? Since childhood? How must it be, to have that purity of love from the start.

It had taken him so long to find the girl who was the one. Soon, soon he hoped, she would be his… his mind was made up. Just as soon as he could get back to Midgar and there wasn’t crisis after crisis…

He was ready. He wanted so desperately to ask.

The only thing holding him back… sometimes, Zack wasn’t confident of who he was. Could he make that kind of commitment without being sure? Absent-minded, he picked up his sword, forehead to it, floating in the memory of his mentor.

“Zack,” Cloud’s voice interrupted, “you know, you never actually use that thing.”

_Huh._ Cloud was right; he really didn’t. Strength alone was usually enough to get him through, the blunt end only an extension of himself, a mechanical leverage of his power. So why didn’t he trade it in for something more useful?

But, truthfully, he knew. An omnipresent memento to remind him of who he really was. It was the sword that represented what he wanted to be – protector, not aggressor. To keep honor, bring meaning to his life and his soul.

“I almost forget,” he admitted, turning to his friend. “Thank you, Cloud, for reminding me.” _Of what I wanted, to be a hero. But I’ll do so on my own terms this time._ Cloud looked at him in confusion, but how could he explain all Angeal’s lessons in a few short words?

_There will be plenty of time, Cloud. Soon enough, you’ll be SOLDIER, and I’ll be there with you, to pass all that wisdom forward. Let that be part of the legacy of Angeal, that I leave to you._

*******

Days went by. Since the day Tifa had come to tell him that Sephiroth had locked himself in the mansion, there had been no change. Sephiroth, still in that library doing Goddess-knows-what, casually dismissing Zack to leave him alone; and Zack’s restlessness was crawling under his skin.

He’d stop by Tifa’s house in the morning, to see if she had any news. Shyly, she admitted there was nothing to report. He found himself walking laps around the village, looking for something to fight, feeling even more useless than he had been in Costa del Sol. The mission in stasis. Couldn’t get through to Aerith with the crap signal in the mountains. _How did they have wi-fi here, but not a cell signal???_ At least there was Cloud to keep him company, or he thought he might have lost it altogether.

Circling back to the village, he found the other man standing by the water tower, staring up. Zack followed his line of sight….

_Tifa’s house._

“Whatcha doing there, buddy?” Zack asked.

Cloud started, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. In a way, maybe he had. “Just… thinking about the past.”

He’d thought he couldn’t bear to reveal himself to Tifa; he was starting to change his mind. _I should just go ahead and do it._ The day before, he’d actually worked up the courage to knock at her door.

_Tentatively, he squeaked open the door. Just like always, no one in Nibelheim ever locked their doors, depending on the courtesy of others not to enter. Not like anyone would steal, or even have terribly much worth stealing._

_Had he ever been in her house before? He thought back, and realized… he hadn’t. He’d THOUGHT about it so many times that he had successfully confused himself, but now that he really thought about it… never, actually._

_Despite polite intentions, he found his feet carrying him inside, up the stairs, into her room. This, the room he had gazed into from afar so many times… starting with… **that** day…_

_The day that had changed so many things. For both of them._

_He walked to the piano, grazing fingers over keys, thinking about the notes that had been played here so many times. On a whim, he pounded out a few chords, the extent of his limited musical knowledge._

_Outside, he heard a sound._

_Suddenly terrified, he jumped away from the piano. He glanced furtively out the window, and to his relief, no one was coming – but he was spooked him enough to hustle out the front door, closing it behind him with a careful click._

_What if he left her a note? Or had Zack deliver a message? Ask her to meet him outside the water tower once again. He’d tear off that mask and then... He pictured her pulling close, slender fingers flat against his chest. He’d put his arms around her, hands softly grazing her hips, as their lips drew close…_

_Maybe he’d be able to try again when she was here._

“I haven’t even told my mom yet I’m here,” he admitted.

It was all coming together. “The blonde knight” Tifa had talked about in her email, embarrassed afterward that she had asked. Cloud’s shyness, trying to hide who he was. Something needed to be done. It would be so easy. Rent a room in the inn, stuff those two in, and throw away the key, and just let things happen.

He _strongly_ suspected Tifa would be happy to see Cloud.

“I got your email,” Zack told him. “No worries. I’ll totally go with you to see your mom. Looking forward to it.”

“Thanks, Zack.” Cloud’s thoughts were already drifting off.

“Well, I think I’m going to turn in for the night. You going to be okay out here?”

“Yeah.” Cloud’s voice was distant, dreamy. “I’ll be there soon. I’m just going to stay and... think some more.”

Zack nodded, leaving Cloud behind to gaze at the stars.

*******

Tseng listened avidly to Cissnei’s call, feeling the strain behind his eyes. _The mansion._ He knew little more than he knew about the secrets of the reactor, but what little he knew was more than he wanted to. _Hojo._ That man’s name connected with ANYTHING was a Very Bad Sign.

His Turk instincts were screaming.

“Verdot’s still out of contact,” he told her. Leaving Tseng in charge, a position he’d been groomed for a long time, but still didn’t feel he deserved. “Stay in location. Maintain surveillance. Call me _immediately_ if there is any change in Sephiroth. We can’t do anything until we get more information.” Zack there as well, stuck in a holding pattern of a mission heading to an unknown conclusion.

“Understood,” Cissnei replied, and hung up.

He massaged his forehead, wishing he could reach the Commander. Did Verdot know the secrets the Shinra manor hid?

Another thought, squirming behind. Had Verdot been a part of it?

*******

There hadn’t been any time to send notice – not even a card. He’d been so worried about seeing Tifa, he realized, that he’d nearly forgotten to take his mother into consideration.

He felt ashamed of himself – all this time and he hadn’t written his mother once. He’d been so preoccupied with _making it_ , with wanting to come back as something she could be proud of, but so much time had passed, and now –

It was kinda embarrassing. He certainly didn’t want to admit it to Zack. But, truth was… he just plain missed his mom. It made him feel really uncomfortable about stopping in, but at least his buddy had his back.

“Are you sure this is okay, Spike?” Zack asked.

“Don’t worry,” Cloud assured him. “She’ll be happy to meet you.”

The door was suddenly opened by an older, smaller, female version of Cloud. She gasped, and her eyes brightened, blue sparkles a mirror of her son’s. “ _Cloud_?” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were with the Shinra expedition! I mean, I had hoped, but…” Her voice cut off and she swallowed, tears welling in her eyes.

“ _Mom_.” Cloud’s voice was full and tender as he tightly embraced his mother, the warmth between the two radiating outward, a circle so rich it even encompassed Zack. Suddenly, he was heartsick – for his own mother, father. Aerith. All his loves.

“Come on in! Your friend too. Hope you’re hungry! I have plenty of stew ready.” She looked Zack up and down, appraising. “It’s going to take a lot to fill YOU up.”

“I told you the first thing she would try to do is feed you,” Cloud apologized.

“Like every mom everywhere!” Zack joked over the pain inside. Here on Cloud’s mother’s doorstep, he was realizing how long it had truly been.

He’d told himself his sacrifices to make it up the ranks had been worth it… but more and more, he had his doubts. He didn’t just miss his own family; he wanted his own. With Aerith. He hoped... soon enough, they’d be married, and then after that… he imagined how Aerith might look a baby in her arms…

He knew Cloud admired him – the sheepish, flattering email Cloud had sent had only confirmed what Zack already knew – but he thought, perhaps he should tell the younger man that he admired him just as much. For his innocence, his freedom, his easy smile.

His chance to come home again.

Zack hadn’t been given that option.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Strife. I’m Zack,” he introduced himself.

“Strauss, actually. Ms.” Zack felt a bit embarrassed, suddenly remembering Cloud saying he’d never known his father. “Why don’t you just call me Claudia.” She stepped back, looking Cloud up and down. “So, Cloud… is this the uniform of a SOLDIER?”

Cloud hung his head. “Mom… I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t make it. I’m just in the regular army. Zack, here, is a SOLDIER. First Class.”

“Cloud.” She brushed her son’s hair back tenderly, a spikier version of her own yellow color. “You’re too hard on yourself. Whatever you do is fine.” She stepped back. “My, how you’ve grown!”

Zack burst out laughing. “You mean he used to be SHORTER?”

“Shut up, Zack,” Cloud cautioned, blushing slightly.

“Don’t let him fool you, Claudia,” Zack interjected. “Cloud’s up and coming. He’ll be SOLDIER yet.” How was it Cloud couldn’t see? His mom would be proud of him no matter what; what else would one expect from a mom? It was TIFA that he wanted so desperately to impress.

That inn room was sounding better and better.

Speaking of… “- heard Tifa was your guide up to the reactor. You know she’s doing that now? She’s been learning to fight – with her fists! She’s really come a long way. You should see her. Her teacher’s here in town. Maybe you’ll get to meet him…” Claudia chattered gaily on, oblivious to the pained look on her son’s face.

“Uh… Mom… our paths didn’t entirely cross,” Cloud demurred. Not the exact truth, but close enough. _Just go for it, buddy,_ Zack silently urged. Where would he be if he hadn’t had the courage to go after Aerith? Love was a risk if it was worth anything. Cloud had so much determination to make it into SOLDIER, but he was just lost when it came to matters of the heart.

Pleasant memories drifted back, consoling him. The bliss of looking into her face at the same time that he felt himself inside of her. Spooning her gently among the flowers afterward. Outside Nibelheim, the world full of green as you never saw in Midgar, he staring at the sky, painfully wishing she was there with him to see it.

_Goddess, he missed her._

The rugged, mountain food was different from the spiced, lighter fare that Zack was used to from Gongaga, but it was delicious and filling and satisfying in a way more than flavor ever could. Zack couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “And here you were telling me your mother’s stew was TERRIBLE!”

Cloud was too shocked to even respond.

“Relax, buddy, I’m just joking!” He mock-punched Cloud. “Claudia, it’s every bit as good as he promised.”

She beamed. “It’s the least I can do,” she said. “I’m so glad to meet you, Zack. I’m really glad that Cloud is making friends in Shinra.”

“Not a lot of friends,” Cloud’s eyes dropped to his dinner.

“Don’t sell yourself short, huh?” Zack replied. “One good friend is more than enough.”

Cloud mumbled an embarrassed thanks, blushing even redder.

Claudia unwittingly brought up Tifa again and again, saying how she hadn’t even had a chance to ask her neighbor about the trip up the mountain; Cloud’s head shot up in alarm at every mention. Zack’s mind was made up. The only question was how…

He was still mulling over the possibilities when he excused himself an hour later, wanting Cloud to get some alone time with his mom. Instead of going back to the inn, he spent his time taking a long walk around the village, through the outskirts, thinking, thinking.

Zack had the perfect excuse to go talk to Tifa tomorrow morning. He imagined how he would do it. Should he sneak it into conversation? _So Cloud and I were just talking at the inn last night…_ and see if she took the bait. I mean, what girl WOULDN’T love Spike? He was such a catch – sweet, smart, genuine.

If she didn’t see that in him… she didn’t deserve him.

Maybe he should just be direct. _You know Cloud’s here with me and he’s way too_ _embarrassed to come talk to you?_ Yeah. That might work better.

Who knows how much time they might have, anyway?

*******

The phone rang in his pocket, and he gasped with surprised pleasure looking at the number.

“Aerith?” he greeted her. The only word from her had been from Kunsel, checking on her as he promised, an email telling him the flower wagon had broken and Aerith was waiting for him to come back and fix it. Zack hoped he could do that very soon.

Aerith smiled through the phone. Days without his voice, dialing his number again and again, getting the message the caller was out of range. She’d been prepared to hear the recording yet another time, but instead, this sweet surprise instead.

“I can’t believe you got through,” Zack sighed, wishing he could stand here all day, just listening to her speak, instead of going once again to see if anything with Sephiroth had changed. So many things he wished he could say. “I… can’t really talk right now.”

“Oh.” Aerith twirled a lock of hair, absent-minded. Should she tell him… now? It STILL wasn’t the best time. But she couldn’t postpone it much longer. She touched her stomach instinctively. Still flat as it had been, but the tenderness inside told her something was surely happening. “Work again?” she asked, resigned.

“Yeah.” His voice was apologetic. “The mission… it’s kinda… stuck.”

She really should have told him already; then she wouldn’t be fruitlessly sitting around, dialing a number that wouldn’t connect, waiting for word of when he would be back. Somehow, she knew, he’d find a way to drop everything, come running back. Was that what she wanted him to do?

Zack could hear the disappointment in her silence. “I’ll try to call you.” Would he be able to get through again? Damn this mountain reception. “No. Better. We’ll be done soon enough here. I’ll come see you.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

He took as deep breath. This was the last time he was doing a mission like this. He was First Class, right? Next time, he was taking Kunsel’s advice and turning the mission down. Just had to get this one last one over with. “Aerith. That’s a promise.”

The call closed with a gentle click, and Zack was left standing, wanting to throw the phone against a wall. Her sweet goodbye was all he had left to keep him until then. His head drifted upwards, thinking how she and he were sky and flowers, her liquid love like water.

_Aerith, wait for me just a little longer…._

If he had his way, he would never leave her again.

Aerith held the line, now dead. It wasn’t much, but it would do for now, the echoes of the promise giving her a viewpoint into the future.

She knew he’d never break his word.

*******

**_AND ON THE SEVENTH DAY…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a beautiful piece of fanart that was part of the inspiration for the chapter, but it’s so difficult to reference links. The deviantart ID is 496090713 and it’s called “If I had taken off that mask”, by Nightyswolf. Hope you can find it!


	18. September 30, 0002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication this chapter goes to SKEvans, writer on this site. She just completed “The Stars We Dreamed Of”, and I loved it (blatant promotion). SK, I was looking for a dedication for you, and given the intense action of “Stars”, I’m giving you THE NIBELHEIM INCIDENT.

Tifa woke up to the flames.

The heat, the burn, reaching up to the second story where she slept, threatening upwards with their licks and tendrils.

She ran downstairs, flushed and frightened. Her father gone. Tearing outside, dry tinder crackling, the fire expanding by the moment before her eyes. Cloud’s house beside hers, already half consumed, as helplessly she wondered if Claudia had made it out as well – or if she’d been immolated, consumed in her sleep.

She dashed through the square, villagers screaming, running everywhere. She could see no one through the smoke, oily timber burning acrid fumes, stinging her eyes. She could only watch as embers leapt across the gap to the inn, the thatched roof igniting in an instant.

Everywhere, it spread. Small flames joining, growing, no longer isolated; no random incident, this. Someone had started the fire on purpose.

Someone with that kind of power.

Dimly, she spied a familiar face; magnetic, she ran to her teacher. “Zangan,” she cried out. “What happened here? Where’s my father?”

Zangan stared with pity at his faithful student. “It was Sephiroth,” he told her. “Your father saw him when he started the fire. Flames everywhere, all at once, and then he turned, and laughed, and left. Your father ran after him.”

_No. Sephiroth. SOLDIER. Zack... had he gone mad, too?_

“I’m going after him,” Tifa announced, and was off as fast as long legs would carry her. Zangan knew he was no youth; he couldn’t hope to catch her. All he could do was use his strength here, where he could do the most good….

*******

Cissnei crept, Rekka at the ready. Sephiroth gone mad. She knew she was no match.

She could only her time… hiding. Waiting. _Zack_ – he was the only chance.

She’d fled the destruction of the village with barely a call to Tseng, her superior horrified at the news. She tore up the trail Tifa had led the others only days before; monsters sliced and splattered left a bloody message that was all the confirmation she needed that Sephiroth had gone this way.

The reactor.

That was his goal.

_What could he be looking for?_

Did even Tseng know what secrets it held?

*******

Cloud woke with the flickers of flame, survival instinct hijacking his senses, only thinking as he hit the bottom of the stairs and ran for the door _Zack, why didn’t he wake up Zack…._

He burst outside, seeing the bases of houses already aflame, wooden structures easy tinder for the blaze that surrounded him, anywhere and everywhere at once. Looking to his childhood home, he saw it and Tifa’s house beside it both nearly consumed, eaten through the walls, to the foundations. Had that been where the fire’s start had been?

He stood between the two, torn. _Mom. Tifa_. A rafter of the roof came crashing through Claudia’s home – _his_ home – falling to where her bed lay, and Cloud’s choice was made.

Recklessly he ran inside, dodging flames as he could, calling for his mother. The smoke, thickening, he unable to find his way. He coughed harshly, head spinning vertiguous, and he realized there was no air left to breathe.

The weight of the truth crashed in on him. It was already too late.

His mother was gone.

Hustling back to the heat outside, it feeling near-chill after the hellish interior, he gasped lungfuls of smoldering oxygen, lungs burning in protest. _Tifa_ – could he save _her_ at least? He stumbled to the house next door, feeling himself crashing to the ground as darkness closed its curtains over him.

His last thoughts were his dearest wish that he could be that SOLDIER to save her.

_Tifa… I promised…_

******

Tseng hung up the phone, cool exterior neatly covering up the trickle of panic within. A trickle that was fast becoming a river.

_Sephiroth, gone mad?_

He’d need to get to Nibelheim ASAP. With all the backup he could find. Too slow to call in SOLDIER. Quick, efficient telephone calls requesting helicopters, operatives. At the last, he got a call that Professor Hojo would be accompanying them. _What interest could the scientist possibly have in this disaster?_

Then again, Sephiroth was his creation. Hojo would examine the destruction as avidly as he’d charted the general’s progress.

One last call. The one he needed most to make. He was expecting just to leave a message, but to his surprise, after months of silence, the line picked up on the first ring. As if he’d been expected.

“Commander Verdot,” Tseng began. “We have a situation…”

******

Zack had nodded off to sleep, fading into dreams of Aerith, when finely honed instincts jolted him awake. Turning, he saw the other bed empty. _Cloud? Where had he gone?_

A flicker from the window, and as he turned, the full brunt of the horror greeted him.

SOLDIER adrenaline kicking in, he grabbed his sword, rushing out the door to the inferno. He looked back up to see the timbers of the inn starting to alight, inching towards the room where he had lately been sleeping, slowing eating their way through this house to destroy it as all the others it soon would as well.

Chaos was everywhere, Nibelheim was a burning nightmare. And in the middle…

Zack turned to see Sephiroth, crazed furor in his eyes, rabid, flames brushing him untouched.

The words unspoken caressed his mind.

_I’m coming to get you…_

Bodies, crumpled everywhere. Dimly in the flames, a single man, alive, moving, himself leaning over one of the immobile victims. He leaped a flaming log to join him; an instant later recognition hit. Zangan, the man Tifa had pointed out as her teacher, his muscles straining with the dead weight of the man he was trying to pull to safety.

“SOLDIER,” the other man shouted. “Are you still sane?”

“You mean, not like Sephiroth?” Zack yelled back. Solid resolve steeled under tensed muscles, body tightened like a spring, coiled and ready to snap. “Yeah, I’m sane.”

  
Zangan let the body he was holding slide away, now obvious it was too late, the victim charred and choked by flames and soot. “Tifa,” he hollered. “Her father ran up that mountain! She followed!”

_Tifa_. Had Cloud run after her? Had Zack been too late? _Nibelheim, burning all around, a heartbreaking catalog of broken feelings and near misses…_

Up the mountain. To Sephiroth… “They won’t stand a chance!” Zack shouted.

Zangan met his eyes, grim and solid. “I’d kill him myself if I could, but I’m a just an old man who knows some of how to fight. This calls for SOLDIER skills, a man’s courage.”

Zack nodded in consent. What had happened to Sephiroth, that week he was in the mansion? What had he discovered to turn and twist him this way? Had he turned mad, even more than Angeal, Genesis, even?

Had Sephiroth lost his last connections to humanity?

He reached for the ice materia embedded in his wristband. His hand paused; too late for that, he realized, heart sinking. Sephiroth must have started fires everywhere at once, an inferno beyond the capability of simple magic to help. There was nothing he could do here. _Do what you can. First things first. You’re only a man._

No, not just a man. _I’m Zack Fair, SOLDIER First Class. And even if Sephiroth has abandoned it, I still have honor._

_Find Tifa._

“I’ll go after her,” he called to Zangan, and the man motioned him to go.

_Tifa, don’t get yourself killed…_

The words echoed, over and over.

_I’m coming for you…_

Sephiroth, why?

*******

Tifa’s father, crumpled in front of the reactor, Masumune a spike driven right through. Cissnei’s heart went out to Tifa. _What did the man think he could have done, anyway?_ All he could do was die…

The heat radiated up the mountain, scorching air mingling with warm Mako winds from the reactor. The flames that had been starting would have overtaken the village by now, and she was powerless to help.

Maybe they ALL would die today.

She followed Sephiroth into the reactor, but as quiet as she was, he sensed her nonetheless. The general turned to face her, raw malice in his eyes.

A thunder clap, and Cissnei knew that she was hit. _Immobilized_. The floor cracked and heaved below her. She tensed, waiting for Sephiroth’s finishing blow, but he only laughed, scornful, turning away.

As her limbs loosened, she crept into the shadows, waiting, hoping.

Her head swam. She fought the fading light…

******

Through the haze, Cloud heard like lucid water a voice he vaguely recognized. _Zack_.

“- okay?” the voice asked.

Cloud, thoughts heavy with smoke and flame, could only mumble one word. _Sephiroth_. He’d seen the apparition in the flames before he passed out, a shadow self of the great SOLDIER, and he just KNEW.

“I know, buddy. Hang tight,” he heard, this time clear.

Weather-spotted, muscled arms of an older man were pulling him to his feet. Cloud shook his head, clearing the fog of splintered thoughts, but though he might have hoped and wished, the disaster of Nibelheim was still all around him.

_Tifa_ , he moaned.

“She’s safe, but only for the moment. She ran after Sephiroth. Boy, can you stand?” A gruff voice. Not Zack. _Where had Zack gone?_

Suddenly, it was as if a light spiked through him. _Tifa_. There was still a chance… and heart pounding, he thought he could take on an army all his own. His vision swam and cleared, he was abruptly raised back to life.

The old man’s features resolved before him. “Go,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of whatever can be saved here.”

Cloud nodded, frenzied thoughts of Tifa in danger overtaking his mind. _The promise he had made her. A hero who would come to save her_. But now, nothing in him thought of being a hero. He only thought of her.

_Tifa, please, I’m coming…_

*******

Her father cut down before the reactor, pinned to the ground like an insect with Sephiroth’s blade.

Tifa desperately checked for a pulse, wishing for those last few moments to say goodbye. What was the last thing she had said to him that day? She couldn’t remember, and now… he was already gone. Her only consolation was, his death looked to have been quick, a clean drive through the heart, although she doubted that was anything of mercy.

Later was the time to cry. For now, rage drove her on, she letting go of all the restraint that Zangan had taught her, unleashing darkest impulses inside as she pulled the sword from her father’s corpse and ran into the wide-open doors of the reactor.

_Sephiroth, at the top of the stairs_. Reckless, wrath-blinded, she ran to him, his own blade flashing in reflected green light of mako pools below.

The monster turned, and with easy contempt, grabbed the hilt, hands opposite hers, lifting she and the sword together. He viewed her with belittling contempt, she hanging in the air before him.

Defiant, she stared back into his eyes, meeting him hate for hate.

A flick of his wrist, and she had only a moment to realize she’d been cut, and she was falling, tumbling, backwards down the stairs, head slamming her metal floor as she rolled to a stop, cold fissures of metal reaching up to grab her.

*******

Brian Lockhart, dead.

Tifa, bloody but breathing.

Cut badly but alive, still alive… at least he was on time for one of them –

_Sephiroth… she’s just a girl…._

Zack placed a hand hesitantly on her shoulder, but she only shrank away; despite her injuries, she curled into a ball, refusing to look him in the face.

“I hate you, I hate Shinra, I hate SOLDIER!” she madly sobbed. “I hate you all!”

It was a punch to the gut. Her hate was nothing but deserved. _Monsters, that’s all SOLDIER is._

Monsters…

Monsters have to die.

Dreams and honor carried him. He was still a man. It drove him up the stairs, and with one grand blow of the Buster Sword, he smashed through the sealed door…

*******

Tifa’s stomach cramped from her outburst. Her head rang from the impact. Consciousness was thin; she felt herself fading away.

_Soldiers aren’t heroes after all._

Now, she was glad that Cloud wasn’t one of them.

But as thought slipped into dream, her mind cried out, reaching, reaching…

_Cloud, where are you when I’ve never needed you more?_

The words in her mind drifted away with the ashes of the town below.

*******

He had no weapon, no plan. No idea what he was going to do.

But as if Tifa’s need pulled him, Cloud had torn up the mountain with superhuman speed, focused, firm on his objective.

_Tifa._

Tifa was up there.

Tifa was in danger…

He had barely registered Brian Lockhart’s corpse, a bare moment of regret for the man who had been Tifa’s father. _Brian Lockhart – dead_. The man had never had much love for Cloud, but he’d been Tifa’s father. Both of them, orphaned on the same day. His mother, lost to the fire. His heart flew out in sympathy and understanding.

There was nothing he could do for Brian. All he could think was _Tifa, Tifa_ …

*******

A familiar voice. Hey… hang in there…

Through the haze, she squeaked out one small word. “Cloud?” She tried to move. “Where’s Zack?” she asked, worried.

“Cissnei. You’re alive.” She heard a soft exhale of relief. “Just wait a moment. I need to check on Tifa.”

She lifted her head, vaguely seeing Cloud leaning over Tifa. When had the girl arrived? When had she been taken down? _How long had she been out_ , Cissnei wondered, and what had she missed?

Cloud leaned over Tifa, whispering to her softly. The telltale razor-thin slice of the Masamune; little blood, just enough to see the line, Tifa sliced down the middle like a pig gutted.

Clashes of metal spoke of combat below; Cissnei felt the charge of materia use in the air, crackling in resonance with the wellspring of mako that formed the core of the reactor.

Groaning, she rose to all fours, and vomited profusely. Trying to force herself to her feet, she saw Cloud turn and leave.

She couldn’t fight… but she could try to get to Tifa.

_Cloud... you can’t beat Sephiroth. Come back…_

*******

\- and now, there she was, crumpled on unwelcoming metal.

Cloud glanced below, where the clashing of metal echoed. Zack. It must be. The only man who could defeat Sephiroth now; what chance did he, a mere trooper, have against a SOLDIER First?

He gently scooped up Tifa’s limpid form, careful of her injuries so not to wound her further. She was sliced clean but it looked deep, dangerous, a red line between death and life. He wanted a soft bed to lay her down, but the best he could do was carry her off to the side, arranging her as best he could.

Her head lolled to the side, and her mouth opened. Only one word came out. “Cloud….”

“I’m here, Tifa,” he whispered softly; but she was somewhere far away.

He shrank back as the form of Sephiroth reentered, just in time to see Zack flung down the stairs. He heard the clatter of the Buster Sword, pinned to the floor above; and Sephiroth turned back to the chamber within.

******

Zack cringed prone on the stairs, moaning softly.

“Zack? You too?” Cloud gasped, leaning over his friend. “How?”

Zack raised his head with obvious pain and forced out the word Cloud dreaded to hear. _Sephiroth_. Sephiroth did this too. The village wasn’t enough, cruelty thirsting for more.

Their eyes met, an exchange of understanding.

Cloud’s eyes grew fierce, burning bright.

_Almost a mako glow_. No, not mako. With a start, Zack realized what he was reminded of.

_Aerith…_

…would he ever see her again?

He slumped, body weakening, even his SOLDIER strength depleted. Cloud rose. Zack hoped…

*******

Sephiroth stood before a capsule, crowned with a metal-worked angelic head. With a heave, Sephiroth pulled off the mask – and Cloud was horrified at what he saw within.

_A monster…_

There were no words for the armless torso suspended in fluid, humanoid head bolted to a mechanism, tubes feeding it energy within.

_Jenova_.

That was what the name meant.

This _thing_ …

The Buster Sword, speared into the floor, Quietly, Cloud grasped the handle, easing the point out. Heightened emotions drove his strength as he lifted it easily over his head –

\- and he charged.

As Sephiroth reached for the glass –

\- the sword slid through his body, splintering the tube on impact, cracks radiating out.

Sephiroth crumbled, and Cloud slid the Buster Sword out from the man’s body. Unbloodied, he noted with surprise. How could that be? Tifa. He left the silver general downed by his injuries, and fled his attention to Tifa.

Her breathing slow, labored, Cloud wondering how much time she had to get help. He gently scooped her into his arms, the first time he’d touched her this way - wondering if this would be his only chance, caressing the side of her face with every tenderness he’d ever harbored for her.

T _ifa, why couldn’t I take off that mask? Why was I so embarrassed to talk to you? Please, just open your eyes. Don’t let me lose you now. Don’t let me miss another chance to tell you I love you…_

The second time he’d seen her like this, but there was no father to come save her now, yell at Cloud for putting her in danger… he was empty meat outside, lying in dribbles of his own blood.

Sephiroth, trampled but yet undefeated, hobbled out of the chamber; Masumune in left hand, the other holding – the decapitated head of that _thing_ he had called _Mother_.

Zack lifted his head, livid with pain. Sephiroth, as inhuman as Jenova itself. “How dare you,” he hissed, and Cloud looked up.

A rabid dog, needing to be put down.

That was all Sephiroth was, now.

Zack had only one hope left….

“Cloud…” he half-moaned, strength draining by the second. “Finish him off…”

Cloud let one last look linger on Tifa’s beautiful scratched face. _Tifa, I have to do this, if any of us are going to make it out of this nightmare alive._ He lowered Tifa down with the greatest of care, rising, reaching down, he grasped Zack’s sword.

This was not about being a hero. Not something belonging SOLDIER. There was only one thing that meant anything now… being a man. A man who had made a promise - a promise he meant to keep.

No matter what it cost him.

“SEPHIROTH!” he cried, and he charged.

The Buster Sword braced against the Masamune, every fiber of Cloud’s being pushing backwards against Sephiroth. In the smallest of universes, there was nothing but him and his foe. Strength flooded him, and for the briefest of moments, staring at Sephiroth in absolute defiance, he knew they were equals.

With a heave, Sephiroth sent Cloud flying, the sword clattering uselessly away once again. _Honor_. Zack had said that was the meaning of the sword. Cloud cringed, curling fetal in pain. Contemptuous, Sephiroth limped to his opponent; grasping the Masamune, with a sharp drive he impaled Cloud through the chest, lifting him into the air.

_For Tifa…_

Power from a distance to far to imagine, pain a distant loss. Instinct drove his hands as he grasped the Masamune’s blade, lifting, levering, raising Sephiroth into the air as he sunk down, the blade through his chest a handle, a tool.

“Impossible,” Sephiroth hissed. “Those eyes…”

Sliding the sword out of his own chest, with a final swing he flung Sephiroth bodily against the wall, the SOLDIER bouncing forward, rolling, tumbling, spilling, sword and all, into the mako below.

Cloud spared only a moment to look in the torrent of green, the last home of the SOLDIER, first among firsts.

His stomach panged, all the cries of the wound making itself known. Cloud’s hand went to his chest. The sword had missed vital organs, but he was still weakening fast, last reserves of strength fading with the danger gone.

Zack raised his head, eyes giving a silent salute, and Cloud tumbled, clunking headfirst down the stairs to rest at Zack’s side.

As Cloud let himself fall into darkened dreams, he heard the last traces of Zack’s voice.

“Cloud… you did it…”

*******

The fire was fading; there was nothing left to burn. Rare survivors, moaning, and Zangan helpless to save any one, beyond the help of his small Cure materia.

Something brushed against his legs, and he looked down to see Tifa’s cat. He made to shove it away, but it pushed back, yowling a pitch he’d never heard out of its mouth. It ran several yards, then turned to look back at Zangan, never ceasing its high-pitched wail

_Does it want me to follow?_ Zangan cast a last look across the village. There was nothing more he could do here…

The cat scampered forward, and he followed it up the mountain.

******

Cissnei crawled first, then hobbled to her feet. Zack and Cloud unconscious on the stairs; but Sephiroth was done, finished. She’d heard the last moments of his demise, felt the shockwaves as he brokenly plummeted into the mako below.

But what lives had it cost?

Knees like jelly, she wobbled over to Tifa. Tifa’s head fell, but there was the barest hint of registering Cissnei’s presence.

“Tifa,” she said. “It was Cloud. He came to save you.” _The promise_. Had it driven Cloud all the way here? Had it given him the strength to slay Sephiroth, the most powerful man in the world?

_Future SOLDIER Cloud…._

_…you didn’t even need to be SOLDIER, did you?_

A puzzle, for now, filed in the back of her mind.

An incongruous _meow_ interrupted her thoughts, and to her surprise, a white cat scampered in. _Tifa’s pet?_

And just behind, a man she hadn’t seen before, spry motion and muscle defying years that showed in salt-and-pepper hair. He leaned over Tifa, ignoring Cissnei’s presence. “Tifa,” he gasped. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“She needs help,” Cissnei told him. “As soon as possible. That’s from Sephiroth’s blade.”

He scooped her up with fatherly tenderness; Cissnei thought of Brian Lockhart’s corpse, laid out bare outside. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Zangan,” he said, distracted, as he carefully examined Tifa’s wounds. One finger lingered on the blood now dripping from her scalp. “I’m her teacher.”

“How did you know to find her?”

“The cat.” Zangan ripped a strip from his shirt, tying it around Tifa’s stomach, a makeshift bandage. “It led me to her.”

“Amazing,” Cissnei told him. She worried. “Shinra will be here soon,” she told Zangan.

The man looked at Zack and Cloud, still out cold. “I can’t save them all,” he said, with regret. “I can only hope to get Tifa out.”

“Do that while you can,” Cissnei warned him. She coughed. “I have to wait here.”

Her torso now bandaged tight, Zangan easily lifted Tifa’s slight form over his shoulders. He looked back at Zack and Cloud. “Save them if you can,” he told Cissnei; she nodded. “They were heroes today.”

*******

She didn’t know how many hours passed. Cissnei stood watch, vigilant. Zack... Cloud… Sephiroth was finished, but that both barely lingered on. She prayed Shinra would come in time.

The whir of the helicopter outside brought desperate reprieve, and she braced to avoid rushing out, patiently keeping watch over her charges. She sighed in her relief as her superior walked through the door, calling Tseng over, followed by a plummet of her stomach as she saw who followed him in…

_Professor Hojo._

Hojo brushed her away, a minor nuisance, leaving her standing idly to the side next to Tseng.

“What’s HE doing here?” she hissed.

“He insisted on coming along,” Tseng muttered, obviously none too pleased himself.

“I don’t like this,” she told him.

Tseng’s nod spoke volumes or another man’s words. _Neither do I._

Tseng could barely conceal his discomfort as the professor looked over Zack and Cloud, indifferent, objectifying. As if he didn’t see them as people at all. Zack half-groaned, eyelid’s fluttering open, but Cloud was out cold; Hojo paused by the younger man, speculating, visible his unnerving, profound interest.

“Sir,” Cissnei whispered urgently. ”He’s the one who killed Sephiroth.”

_Cloud_? But he was just a trooper. How did he take out the most powerful weapon in the world? True, the young man had made an impression… but what kind of power did he really have?

“Go,” he ordered Cissnei. “Join the others and see to the survivors in the village.”

Cissnei nodded, reluctant, no choice but to leave.

“Are you sure this isn’t going too far, Professor?” The whole affair was leaving a foul taste in Tseng’s mouth. He owed it to Aerith to bring Zack back. For her, and… and…

Secrets he kept so deep, he couldn’t say it even in his own mind.

“They will surely die without help,” Hojo answered. “Don’t you think they would be grateful?”

Tseng felt sick, knowing he’d come to regret his complicity, but felt powerless to intervene. _Aerith, please forgive me. There is nothing I can do now._ Ordered to help get the manor ready, the site of so much questionable activity before, he dreaded what Hojo might have in mind…

*******

Cissnei surveyed the charred wreckage of the village. Burned to the ground. Bodies lying right in the open, nowhere to flee. She and her colleagues were charged with finding the survivors, however few there might remain.

How would Shinra cover up THIS?

Somehow, she knew they would find a way.  
  


_Zack… Cloud…_

She was helpless. Just another cog in Shinra’s machine, executing the will of her superiors. But if only there was…

And like an apparition, she saw the one man who could help, approaching. “Commander Verdot!” she cried out. If anyone could fix this mess, he could.

Tseng arrived minutes later, pleased and relieved to see their top-ranking officer. Verdot’s face was heavy, lines prominent, showing his wear and age. Tseng wondered if that was where he was headed as well. Sharp, imposing, he gave the order. Survivors to be collected as per Hojo’s request. Taken to the Mansion.

Couldn’t Verdot put a stop to this? Tseng knew too well the story of Kalm, ten years before, he still rising through the ranks. The survivors from there had been taken to the mansion too…

And that was the last Tseng had ever heard of them.

_Surely Verdot wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen again?_

He was trained to obey authority, but this time, Tseng couldn’t restrain himself. “But why, sir?”

“It’s none of our business. It’s our job.” Verdot was firm.

Tseng thought of Aerith. Thought of the other Turks. Thought of who, and what he was. And for the first time ever, he openly defied his orders.

“This work is too dirty,” he said.”I don’t want any part of it. I don’t want my subordinates to have any part of it either.”

_Too dirty for a Turk._

Verdot looked at him, long and silent. Tseng shrank under the gaze. Finally, Verdot spoke. “All right, then.” He sighed. “I suppose this is my penance. None of you have to take part in this. I’ll handle it myself. Now, go.”

Cissnei watched with horror as Zack and Cloud, both fully unconscious, were transported by Hojo’s staff into the mansion. What had she condemned them to? Could she have done anything better?

She knew that question would haunt her forever.

_Zack_ … never to know that on another continent, a new life that was part of him was waiting to be born.

_Cloud_ … so dedicated, so driven. So YOUNG. Would he never have a chance to realize his dreams?

She felt sick; bile gurgled in her throat. Had there been anything left in her stomach, she would have purged it right then and there. Tseng put one hand on her back, gesturing to the helicopter; and helpless and defeated, she turned.

Before she walked away, she saw a small flash of white fur; the head of a white cat peeked around the building. She sent a silent message to it. _Go, little kitty, before Hojo finds you. Who knows what he might do to you._

_Tifa_ , she reminded herself. At least one life saved, to live on free of Shinra’s clutches. She was effectively disappeared. There was no one to know the truth.

That much, Cissnei swore she would never tell. Perhaps, in some way, it would help to redeem all she couldn’t do here today.

_Zack… Cloud… I’m so sorry…_

*******

From the mountain pass, Zangan looked down at the Shinra swarm below. The cleanup operation was beginning, Shinra’s filthy hands readying to cover up their mistakes. He saw the survivors, the wounded, rounded up and carried away.

And in the center of it, Hojo.

He only knew Hojo by reputation – but that was more than enough. Hojo’s presence here meant no good for those who remained. He was grateful Tifa wouldn’t be one of them.

The cure spells he used were only maintaining her; if it hadn’t been for her past year of training, strengthening, she would have been lost already. His only hope was to make it over the mountain to Rocket Town. _Only the dead crossed the mountain._ The villagers had believed that. He had every intention of defying that belief.

From there, he could catch a flight to Midgar. He hoped there he’d find help for Tifa – the only chance he had to save her. They had the mako, the materia. _If she couldn’t be healed there…_

No. he wouldn’t even entertain that thought.

And then he’d have to tell her… she’d never be going home again.


	19. October 0002-0004

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication this chapter is for Senigata, writer on this site, who’s the only person I know about who has completed a fic for this portion of Tifa’s life (though tbh Seni, my take’s somewhat different from yours). And for, well, Jessie.

White lights were gazing into her face when she woke up.

_Where am I?_ she wondered. Memory was hazy. The last thing she could remember… wait. _Was that right? It couldn’t be…_ She touched her face, her stomach. She couldn’t feel a cut, or a scab; no blood came away on her fingers.

_Could I have dreamed it all? Please, please let that be the case…_

She heard voices, though she could not make out the words; one, at least, sounded familiar. She tried to sit up, but immediately the room crashed and spun around her, and she let her head flop back on the pillow, waiting.

A young woman in a white coat and glasses leaned over her. _Okay. A doctor. So this must be a hospital… but there isn’t a real hospital in Nibelheim…_

The doctor, a lady not much older than herself, smiled. “Finally. Looks like you’re coming around for good. Your father has been very anxious. He’s been here day and night.”

“My father…” Tifa trailed off. “He’s here?” she asked, suddenly invigorated, carefully raising her head… but the man who entered was not… was not…

_Zangan._

Her teacher met her eyes; there was relief, but also a warning. Tifa swallowed what she had been about to ask. Something was going on here; she’d figure it out soon enough, but until then... _Trust your instincts,_ Zangan had always taught her…

“What a relief. You’ve done marvelous work, Doctor,” Zangan began, coming to the bed. He reached down to give her hand an affectionate squeeze.

“She’s pretty resilient. “The doctor went through the motions of checking her vitals. “Your father told me you were in a coma when you were seven. You’d best be careful, if it happens once, it can easily happen again.”

“That’s why I started her training.” Despite the charade, Tifa couldn’t help but hear a hint of pride in Zangan’s voice. _You’re my best student – and I’ve got a hundred twenty-eight!_ he had once told her, laughing. “She’s pretty resilient. She can handle a lot.”

Tifa hoped he was right.

“The good news is, there won’t be any scarring.” Tifa reached up to touch her face involuntarily, the graze of Masamune the punctuation to the statement drawn on her torso in blood. “We’ve got plenty of practice here, doctoring the guys in SOLDIER, Some of them want to keep their scars, like a badge of courage or something, but I can’t imagine a beautiful girl like you would want to. Especially considering the circumstances.”

_You got that right,_ Tifa thought to herself. _I don’t need to keep_ that _reminder. The scar will be etched on my soul instead._

“Did she say anything strange?” Zangan asked. “I mean, we heard all sorts of odd rumors traveling back… and then getting attacked when we were barely inside the city limits!”

“Not much. She mumbled something about clouds. Maybe she wishes she was back on vacation. Can’t blame her, after all?” The doctor and Zangan shared a laugh as she put her stethoscope back in her pocket; Tifa caught a flash of light, a yellow orb embedded within. “I know Sector 6 is supposed to be seedy, but really Sector 1 is the worst for crime. If you have to live in the slums, you might want to look into buying in Sector 5. Most of it is as much of a slum as everywhere else, but there’s some really nice houses there.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, but I hear Sector 7 isn’t bad, and it’s a bit more affordable.” He looked at Tifa, his gaze lingering just a moment too long; was he trying to tell her something? “Gotta work with a teacher’s salary, you know. Not everyone works for Shinra.” The doctor chuckled.

_SOLDIER… Sectors…_ Something tickled Tifa’s brain. “Midgar,” she suddenly blurted out without thinking.

The doctor and Zangan both turned at her outburst. “Yes, sweetheart,” he told her, “we’re back _home_.” The slight emphasis on the last word was unmistakable. “Do you mind if I talk to my daughter for a little while?”  
  


“Of course! I have to make my rounds anyway. I’ll be back later to check on you.” Zangan pulled up a chair, and waited, even several seconds after the door slammed behind her. Finally he drew a deep breath.

“Zangan,” Tifa began; but he put a finger to her lips.

“No,” he told her, more quietly than he should have needed to, even with the door closed. “I gave your first name as your mother’s, because it would be easy for you to respond to. Don’t use your real name until you’re away from here, lost in the population.”

“Then your name…” She was putting it together. “What did you put down for it? And our last name?”

“I won’t tell,” Zangan told her. “What you don’t know, you can’t lie about. Just call me Father, and anything else can be chalked up to lingering confusion.”

_Everything is shrouded in secrecy here._ “Father, then.” “What happened? I mean…” _Father… but my real father?!?_

Zangan sighed, and for a moment he looked older than she had ever seen him before. He was only fifty-seven, still a man in his prime; but he’d once confessed that even in the time since he’d met her, he could feel his age creeping up on him ever more. “How much do you remember?”

_Fear. Flames._ Pain, as that slender sword grazed her face and dug into her bowels, Sephiroth’s horrible grinning face behind it… “I remember a nightmare.”

“Then you remember the truth.” He took her hand in both of his. “You may have to brace yourself for this.”

“I’m ready.” Tifa steeled herself as Zangan himself had taught her to do. _Your first weapons are those inside your heart and mind…_ “Tell me.”

“You guessed right. We are in Midgar. Nibelheim is gone.” Even expecting the words, Tifa felt a sharp pain, not unlike that of Sephiroth’s sword all over again. “Burned to the ground. I had to bring you here, I couldn’t do anything no matter how many Cure spells I tried…”

“I don’t care about me.” Tifa said, more harshly than she expected. “Tell me about the town.”

“I don’t think there were many survivors, and those there were… I saw some Shinra people taking those who were still alive towards the mansion. Maybe they were going to heal them there, but… I just had a bad feeling about it. You never can tell with Shinra. That damn President – no morals at all. No brain, either. I hear his son’s a little smarter, but until the old guy dies… Well, anyway. I decided not to find out. I knew I would only be able to save one person…”

She was suddenly very glad Cloud hadn’t been there to keep their promise. _Wherever you are, at least it wasn’t in that hell._ “Zack…?” she asked, concerned.

“Was that the young SOLDIER?” Zangan asked. “Last I saw, he was injured in the reactor... but I’m sure he was one of the survivors. SOLDIERs are notoriously hard to kill.”

“I know.” _And that damn Sephiroth is a SOLDIER too._ She felt her hatred well up all over again. _Not now, Tifa. Don’t lose control of your emotions. Allow your chance for revenge to come with time…_

Zangan looked at her with compassion, as if he could read her mind; maybe he could. “Revenge is not the way for a martial artist to go, Tifa,” he said softly. “It might sustain you for a while, but it will eat you alive in the end. Eventually, you will have to find some forgiveness to make yourself whole.”

_But it’s all I have left; it’s what I need to survive._ “What else did you tell the doctors?”

“Here’s what I told them. We were on vacation in Costa del Sol – that’s a city far enough away from Nibelheim so as not to arouse suspicion, but close enough that some rumors might have travelled to us. That would cover any slips in conversation you might make. We were getting home to Sector 1 when we were attacked in the streets. You heard the rest.” Zangan paused. “We’ve only been in the hospital a couple of days, but you were in pretty bad shape at the start – the doctor’s right, you might be vulnerable to coma in the future. Nothing to be done about that, though. You have the tools to protect yourself, and past that, well, you’ll just have to trust to luck.”

_Luck. Not much of that going around, is there?_ “What now?” she asked, worried.

“Tifa…” Here alone, he dropped her pseudonym as he grappled with thought. “You can’t go back home. You’ll have to start over. Midgar will be your home, at least for now.” He brushed her hair out of her face with a decidedly paternal gesture. “I know you can do it.”

_Midgar, huh?_ She cursed the city’s name. She knew she could fight, she could take care of herself, and one day she’d planned to take the chance to see the world… _But not like this._ Travelling was not the same as having nowhere else to go.

“You know I don’t like to burden myself with possessions… so I don’t have much gil, but I can give you a little bit to get started. Please, whatever you do, promise me you won’t resort to selling your body!”

“That actually happens?” Tifa replied, genuinely shocked.

Zangan _laughed_ , of all things. “Oh, Tifa… Please don’t let this city take _all_ of your innocence away. But seriously, this isn’t the village you’re used to. You’ll have to keep your wits about you. Let’s start by thinking practically. What are you good at, that you could do for money? Except, you know, what I already mentioned?”

Tifa thought for a minute. After her mother’s death, she and her father had settled into a comfortable routine, where he did most of the cleaning and she… “I’m a really good cook,” she told him. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Well, that’s a good start. People always need to eat, even in the slums. What do you know about alcohol?”

She paused, considering the question. Like most villages, beer and wine had been freely available – even as a teenager and an older child, she had been allowed to partake in moderation. Oh, and then there was that holiday party where her father invited her to try a special foreign whiskey he’d received as a present… _and forgot to tell her not to refill her glass over and over…_ “Not much,” she admitted.

“Well, you might want to add that to your repertoire. This is a heavy-drinking city, especially with that depressing plate hanging overhead. It’s not so much different from cooking, actually. And don’t forget – your personality and your looks are assets as well. Don’t be afraid to use whatever you can.”

Tifa remembered something then. “But I have some friends here… somewhere! A bunch of guys from the village were trying to come here… I think one even made it into SOLDIER…”

To her surprise, Zangan shook his head vehemently. “No, Tifa. You don’t want any associations between you and Nibelheim. Don’t go looking around for your friends – ESPECIALLY not one in SOLDIER. In fact, stay as far away from Shinra as possible right now. What if they want to eliminate a witness?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Tifa admitted. She’d been too excited at the thought of seeing friends again… but… it seemed she would have to make it on her own.

_Somehow_.

“Only I and the Turks know you’re alive - nothing to be done about that but hope they won’t bother with you further. Perhaps you’ll run into your friends eventually, but for now, your goal is to… disappear. Sector 7 is your best bet. Like I was saying, it’s cheap, but still relatively safe, and it’s very diverse. You’ll be able to blend in there.” He breathed a moment. “I’ll have to leave you soon. I’d stay with you, except… who might eventually place me in Nibelheim as well? And that could lead to you.”

“I see,” Tifa said, deflated. She yawned involuntarily. Zangan noticed.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” he told her. “You should rest now. Sleep is healing. Let it all sink in. You’ll probably need a couple more days here, and then… well, like it or not, you’re moving on to a new life.”

*******

Zangan helped her find a small room to herself, but wouldn’t stay, even one night. She knew why, but she wished otherwise. “Consider this part of your training. My last lesson to you,” he advised; and swallowing her anxiety and fear, she nodded.

The longest night of her life was that first, never before having been alone, without anyone she knew ever _near_. It was clean, but plain and simple, and it made her homesick for her old house. Her bed. Her piano… She had to force herself to remember it was all gone, up in flames, existing now only in her head.

The slums were worlds apart from the country homes and fresh air of Nibelheim; she looked in surprise and awe at the giant sun lamps dangling so far above. There was constant noise, the buzzing of life down on the street below. She only had enough courage to step outside for some minimal groceries, a couple pieces of inconspicuous clothing. All she had was a tunic and pants from the hospital, even her flashy Nibelheim outfit – how much pride she’d had in it when putting it on! – missing, probably discarded.

On impulse she bought two bottles of cheap wine; not nearly as good as wine from back home, but then again, it was just as well she didn’t feel nostalgic. The newness of her situation was all she could tolerate for now, she a fifteen-year-old orphan, a girl –child in the big city. She certainly planned to drink more than she ever had in Nibelheim – she was a city girl now, no real reason for restraint, if what Zangan told her about Midgar’s habits was true. In her hands, she held a mako shard, a single-use heal the shopkeeper had recommended, eyeing her size and her purchases. First the one bottle emptied, then the other as she drank the tears away into a blackened sleep, the drink keeping away for one night further the nightmares that were sure to come.

She was grateful for the shopkeeper’s recommendation the next day, waking to blinding artificial sunlight and a pounding head, running to her small bathroom to puke before she crawled back, wrapping her thin blanket around her and reaching for the green-glass sliver of mako. Zangan had taught her the bare basics of materia use, exhibiting his own scant collection to demonstrate, training cut short far before he’d ever gotten to it in earnest. But everyday materia like this could be used by just about anyone, with no particular training over a moment of focus, and the lessons of meditation gave her far more concentration than that. A wash of cool cleanness that made her think oddly of mint, and her stomach was settled, her headache rapidly fading.

She got out of bed, putting on the basic brown dress and shoes she had purchased the night before; as she looked in the small tarnished mirror on the wall, she pushed her hair back, and realized – her right earring was gone. _Who knows where it could have been lost?_ Anytime, during the events of the past few days. Hardly her biggest problem, but she felt a bit of sadness anyway. She considered taking out the other, but decided to leave it in, the small reminder of who she had been traveling with her.

Chalking the experience up to her first lesson about alcohol, she wandered out into the streets that were to become her new town.

The crowds everywhere amazed her; it seemed a single street held more people than the whole of the village where she’d grown up. She gaped in open-mouthed astonishment, until an older woman warned her off. “Be a little more circumspect, dear,” she was told. “It’s obvious to anyone that you’re from out of town. Don’t want to make yourself a target for thieves.”

_Thieves._ Yet another part of the city she’d never had to worry about before. Had she even locked her apartment? She considered backtracking, but decided not to bother; everything she had of any value was with her, and she clung to her small pouch of gil that much tighter.

But despite the woman’s warning, she was surprised to find the citizens of Midgar… _friendly_. Were they all like that, or was that just Sector 7? “It’s living in the slums,” a young man told her. “We have to look out for each other. Not like those topside assholes. If you’re new here, you should introduce yourself around. You’re going to need to know a few people to make it.”

For the rest of the day, and many days after, that was exactly what she did, expanding her social horizons. She’d been prepared with Zangan’s made-up history if anyone asked; but as it turned out, no one actually cared. Whatever had happened to get you where you were, had happened, and as far as everyone else was concerned, that was it; they were much more interested in comparing life above and below the plate, than Midgar vs. some strange reactor town they’d never even heard of. For Tifa, accustomed to Nibelheim being not just home but identity, she started to realize how insular her upbringing had become.

She realized that like it or not, she had a fresh start; she could shape a whole new identity here, if she so desired. Randomly, she thought of Cloud. What had it been like for him, coming here and starting a new life? She wished dearly she could find him, ask him; but Zangan’s warnings rang alarm bells in her head. Was he even in Midgar? If he was, perhaps, in time their paths would cross.

But until then… she’d find her way. _You got this,_ she told herself. It was almost convincing.

Returning every night to her tiny room, she wondered what she could do to spruce up the place. Furniture? She had the most basic, spartan needs, including her closet-sized kitchen; but maybe a small table, some chairs. Pictures? Absolutely, but she took her time finding ones she wanted, inexpensive one-gil prints of the nature she couldn’t have any other way, and over time, adding photos of friends as she made them. She dearly wished she could go out and pick some flowers; a couple tiny blooms would make such a difference in cheer. One day, wandering near the border of Sector 8, she thought she saw a young woman selling flowers… she dug in her pocket to see what money she had, but by the time she looked up, the woman was gone. Perhaps it had only been her imagination?

Finding a job was easier. Too easy, in fact. Tifa had always considered her clothes to be practical, not revealing. Nibelheim, downwind of the reactor, was warm – and so was Midgar - so dressing light was not exceptional. But now, even in the most basic tops and skirts, she found her body stared at, scrutinized. Money from Zangan rapidly shrinking, she bought a blue dress for her first day looking for work – and got offers nearly everywhere. Some made her suspicious that it wasn’t her cooking they were looking for. Most of them, in fact.

Ultimately, she found it easiest to work odd jobs here and there. She soon had plenty of money for her few needs, but more importantly, it let her meet a large amount of people very quickly. The longer she lived there, the more she realized that Sector 7 wasn’t bad. It was lively, if nothing else – she was still sad more days than not, but she could distract herself with all the things going around her. All the strange people, some from close, some from far away, places she had only barely heard about… where in Nibelheim everything was always, always the same, here everything was changing.

Word of mouth led her to the places where other young people could be met. With little true outdoors to be had, the plate citizens had theaters and concerts, centered around the Sector 8 business district, but the poorer hung around. Or watched TV. And drank.

And drank. And drank. And drank. Zangan hadn’t been kidding. Tifa soon enough found herself drinking at her new friends’ apartments, at bars, even on the street in between if the mood struck.

Beer and wine were just as easy to come by as ever – some people even made it at home, as in Nibelheim - but hard liquor was rarer; it was usually only businesses that had the right connections to get it. Thus, it was in a bar one night that Tifa was introduced to – _tequila_.

It was her sixteenth birthday, surrounded by a crowd of acquaintances and closer friends – not how or where she had always expected to celebrate it, to be sure. But it had been months that she had been in Midgar, and even if she didn’t want to call it “home” – maybe she never would – at least she was pretty settled. She was still often lonely, but not entirely alone.

Tifa smelled the strange liquid. “Is this like whiskey?”

“Sort of.” One young man picked up his own. “Only, you drink it like this.” He and several of the others picked it up and drained the glass in one gulp. A couple girls cheered.

Tifa followed their lead, and almost retched. It was harsher than the whiskey from that party so long ago, and she certainly remembered _that_. At least, until she had drank enough that day to not remember _anything_. “Is this supposed to be _good_?”she asked, wiping her lips on the back of her hand.

“You’re just not used to it,” another told her. “You’ve got to increase your alcohol tolerance.”

“Yeah, we all know you can’t drink,” a young man told her. “Didn’t you get wasted on two beers the other day?”

“I did _not_ ,” Tifa insisted, silently thanking Gaia that no one in Sector 7 could afford a camera.

“Don’t listen to them,” Jessie told her, placing a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to imitate these jerks. Sip it slower if you like.” The redhead handed Tifa her own half-empty cup.

Tifa took her friend’s advice. It still burned… but in a way she found tolerable, almost pleasant in its sting. Not horrid, but… She looked at the plate of oranges and lemons on the table. It was the most expensive thing they had ordered, even more so than the steak and the decadent chocolate cake, because they had to be brought from so far away. “I think I can do something with this.” She squeezed a lemon into it and tasted it. Better. Next to the pot of tea were a few lumps of sugar, and she mixed one in as well. Even better.

She handed it back to Jessie, who grew wide-eyed. “Wow,” the other girl replied. “This is really something. You need to give it a name.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tifa replied.

*******

She had dates, more or less. One thing she had difficulty getting used to was how much more _aggressive_ the boys here were – and most of them still felt like _boys_ to her, even as she was starting to feel ever older herself. It happened time and time again that, looking for friendship, the guy she was hanging out with tried to kiss her, wanted to put his hands all over her.

Sometimes she was interested, sometimes it was fun to participate – a little playing, a little touching, gradually going ever further than she had with the boys in Nibelheim. And other times – ugh. Were all _guys_ like this? Had she just never noticed before?

She had grown two or three inches in the year she had lived in Midgar, and she figured she had hit her full height, but she had also filled out more, even more than she had expected. Her continued martial arts training and work schedule kept her slender, but there was one part of her body that was unaffected. Looking at herself in the mirror, gazing at her ample chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was all out of proportion. But guys never seemed to think that way.

_Seriously? Is that all guys need to get their attention?_ At the same time, she was beginning to understand what Zangan meant about using her looks as a weapon.

_Cloud_ , she suddenly thought. He was my friend, before… well, my body grew up. What would he think of me now? Would he still tell me I’m pretty?

She still found herself scanning the newspapers for his name, but she did so less and less. Even if he was in the city – something she increasingly doubted – this was a city of a half million people, what were the chances she would run into him? And if he had made it into SOLDIER, he’d be living in the military lodging above the plate, where Tifa rarely went. Seeing the influence of Shinra everywhere filled her with hate. The slums might be the slums, and there was dirt, and crime, but for the most part she found her sector to be filled with good people who were just trying to get by, same as she herself was.

_If he made it into SOLDIER, he’d be quite a catch. He could easily find himself a girlfriend – maybe a wife._ She pushed the thought down.

As time went on, her thoughts of Cloud were fading, just as all her thoughts of Nibelheim. Back then – lifetimes ago, it seemed - thoughts of him had driven her, she wanting him to be as proud of her as she was of him, to see her as an equal. But now - she could only do it for herself. Zangan had been right. She had to make a new life here. She couldn’t be thinking of boys long gone, puppy loves faded to whatever passed for romance in the here and now.

It was almost by accident when it happened. She had a larger apartment now, and a few of her friends were over for a New Year’s party. Tifa had spent the first half relegated to the kitchen, cooking food and mixing drinks, until her friends told her she had worked hard enough, and dragged her out to enjoy her own party.

Cocktails littered the room, but very few went unfinished. Tifa had become quite proficient at mixing drinks – it really wasn’t much different than making food. Easier even, since you rarely set fire to anything. Locally, she’d gained a bit of a reputation – supplies were limited, but it was said you could bring Tifa _anything_ to drink and she would turn it something at least palatable, but usually delicious.

The blare of sirens – _geez, couldn’t Shinra come up with anything more pleasant, like bells? –_ announced the new year. Tifa found herself agreeably hazy and relaxed, thinking of the future instead of the past for once – and her New Year’s kiss turned into another, and another, and another. The minutes stretched into hours, the dawn finally breaking on the first day of the year – and Tifa was still kissing.

When she finally awoke, the sun was high in the sky. She lifted her head wearily, gauging herself. Not half the hangover she could’ve had – she’d long since stopped trying to keep up with her friends.

Emptied glasses were on the window and nightstand; the floor was littered with the clothes she and he had discarded sometime after midnight. Self-consciously, she pulled the blankets around her, and turned her head to the bed’s other occupant.

His eyes were open, and he looked back at her, hand trailing her long brown hair. She hadn’t cut it since she arrived in Midgar – _why_ , she couldn’t say, but for some reason she didn’t want to, and it now reached passed her rear.

“You okay?” he asked.

Tifa gauged herself for a moment – her body, her feelings. Not fantastic, maybe – but overall, not bad. “Yeah,” she told him. “I’m okay.”

Naturally, the first person she told was Jessie. “How was it?” the other girl asked.

“It was… fun. I guess,” Tifa replied. “But maybe not what I was expecting. I mean, not enormous or life-changing. Shouldn’t I feel uh, different-er?”

Jessie only laughed. She was only two years older than Tifa, but planets ahead in experience. “It isn’t always earth-shaking. It doesn’t have to be that big a deal. Wait and see when it’s with someone you love. Now you’ll be able to appreciate the difference so much more. Like, when I was with Biggs…”

“Wait, you were with Biggs?” Tifa asked. Biggs was his last name; he’d never given his first – but the twenty-five-year old was a notorious charmer, wavy brown hair and soulful brown eyes that attracted half the women in Sector 7, nagged only by a reputation for anal-retentive cleanliness.

“Yeah, he was the first guy I really liked - loved. It was good for a while, but in the end – well, it was a friendly breakup. As you can see, we’re still friends,” Jessie laughed. “But, really – we’ll you’ll see.”

Tifa thought about that. Her fairy-princess fantasies had been just that – _fantasies_. Dead now. Along with everything else she had expected for the future. No matter, she lived in the real world now. She’d never told Jessie about Cloud and their promise, or really much of anything now relegated to her past; Jessie had never asked, cursory hints of family above the plate the only background she herself gave.

“You remembered your Materia, right?” the other woman asked.

“Of course I did.” It had been some months back, when Jessie, in the middle of a very personal girl conversation, had brought it up. “You don’t want kids yet, right?”

“Ugh, no.” She loved children, did want them – she looked forward to someday being a mother – but not for some time. Not here, not now.

Jessie was surprised to find out what Tifa had been taught, openly laughing when she heard what Nibelheim used. “ _Birth control pills?”_ she had asked, laughing, not without a bit of snobbery. “ _Condoms?_ How primitive can you get? This isn’t a village. We have something better here.”

It turned out it was something nearly every Materia shop carried – though you had to ask for it, it wasn’t as well advertised as the more popular items, like Cure and Fire, maybe because everyone but Tifa already knew about it – but it was small and convenient. You set the spell like any other, and then – done. It came in daily, weekly, and monthly forms. An expensive “Mastered” copy let you set the length of time.

_Geez, what DON’T they use mako for in Midgar?_ Tifa wondered. But Jessie had bought her one, and now she was glad for it.

*******

There were other guys. Not many, but a few – Jessie was right, it wasn’t that big a deal. Some she saw for a little while – others she tired of quickly. But she didn’t love any of them, and wondered if her capacity of love had faded away.

In any case, guys weren’t the most important thing on her mind. She had other ways to fill her life. She trained as avidly as ever, her body a source of strength and joy. Nibelheim had its share of monsters high in the mountains, but this was the first time that she’d seen them inside a city’s limits; the lesser ones made excellent practice targets, as well as earning the gratitude of her neighbors. Slowly she improved her gear – leather skorts where once she’d had only cloth, studded gloves to protect her hands. A top with enough support for her gawky breasts. Stripped down to the basics, she channeled all the lessons she’d been taught, streamlining her techniques into a tough, efficient fighting machine.

Her income was steadier; her gigs lasted longer, were more profitable. She’d gained enough of a name for herself that she didn’t need to search as hard. Other than her new equipment, she didn’t need much, content to pass the days in whichever way presented itself. Still, she was settling down to something close to permanence, and wanted a regular job to go with it.

The building a few blocks from her house had been under construction _forever_ , and then sat empty for the longest time after that. She’d been surprised it hadn’t been snapped up yet, in the slums where land was a free-for-all – someone must have been keeping an eye on it, since no squatters had moved in. So it was a surprise one day when she ran past and saw a group of men moving items in – table, chairs, even – a _jukebox_?

“What’s going on here?” she asked, curious.

The man huffed and puffed, setting his burden down on the porch. “Opening a bar,” he told her. “Been the plan from the start. Building wasn’t the problem – it was affording all the rest of it.” He looked around at the forest of furnishings. “Finally, it’s getting there.”

_A bar, huh._ “Are you going to need some help here?” she asked.

Nervously, she waited, but the owner, an older man she’d seen around, was there soon enough. Brief introductions were made; it turned out he’d heard of her already. “Tifa,” he told her. “So glad to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” she replied politely.

“Well, I don’t have to think about it twice. You’re hired.” His hand sweep took in the interior, slowly starting to take shape. “Welcome to a piece of paradise in Sector Seven – Seventh Heaven!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public Service Announcement: Yes, Materia works as birth control and other things in my world. I’m going to assume that since they have Cure and Heal, sexually transmitted diseases aren’t an issue.
> 
> But the rest of us live in the real world, so don’t forget: Use a condom!


	20. October 0002-0006

“I’ll come see you, I promise.”

Those had been his last words to her.

She wished she had thought to ask him when…

Days turned into weeks, then months, and there was no word. Despair set in… could he really have abandoned her just like that?

Especially since…

But she had never told him, had she?

He was a couple months missing gone when she started to feel movement, a kick from the life inside her, and somehow, irrationally, it made her certain her was alive somewhere as well.

Tseng was watching her more than ever. She didn’t entirely know if that was a good or a bad sign. It was only rarely she saw another Turk; a time or two, she thought she caught a glimpse of Cissnei, but she couldn’t remember when she’d last spied any others. Perhaps they were the only ones that knew her condition? Was Tseng keeping it a secret from Shinra as well? Why would he do such a thing? Was it for her, or some reasons of his own?

Whatever his reasons, she was grateful. She certainly hoped that was the case, but she was too afraid to ask. He was closed-mouthed with her in general nowadays, chit-chat dropping into stony silence and that endlessly unreadable Turk expression. In its own way, she found that encouraging. As long as she heard no bad news, she could keep hope - perhaps they had Zack away on some top secret assignment, something Tseng was not permitted to tell her about. Except for when the man’s façade slipped, and she saw a tightening of pain when she mentioned Zack’s name…  
  


Would he have found a way to stay if he had known? Refused his assignment? He was allowed to, but it risked Shinra’s wrath and his hard-earned place. He’d hinted at ways to spend more time together, at one point even suggesting she could live with him above the plate, in a place where they could see the sky every day. And when he’d said that, her heart sank – she’d never told him that she’d lived above the plate before, or the conditions under which that had happened. With that bright-eyed expression on his face, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d rather get as far away from Midgar as possible before she lived above again.

She only wanted to tell him about the happy parts of her life, preferring to keep those the memories that integrated him. Hadn’t told him what Shinra wanted with her and why. She’d never even told him Elmyra was not her real mother. So many secrets she had kept from him out of fear – but now she wondered. Had she been so scared of finding happiness with him? Her handsome SOLDIER, her hopeful buffer against Shinra and their plans. If he couldn’t do it – no one could. And without him… she didn’t think there was any place on Gaia she could truly hide.

And while these thoughts filled her head, her stomach grew, placidly creating that bit of her and Zack together, preparing to bring it into the world

*******

“Why did you do it?” Elmyra asked.

Aerith knew what her mother was asking. She’d certainly had a choice; she’d been prepared with the same Materia every other girl in Midgar had. There was no pretending she hadn’t intended it.

“I willed it to happen.” Aerith rubbed her belly, the bump, at four months, just barely starting to show. “The Planet told me to, Mom,” she explained.

So many times, she’d wondered since if she had heard wrong.

Elmyra still didn’t know what to think – Aerith was ever the child of her heart, without ever giving birth, was she really a true mother? How could she help a daughter know what to feel? Yet… she couldn’t argue with Aerith’s strange powers, the words the Planet spoke to her. Why would the Planet do such a thing to her?

“The baby won’t ever be safe, now that Zack’s gone,” Aerith echoed her mother’s thoughts. No certainty what kind of a shield might have been, but he was definitely _something_. Without him, Aerith was more desirable, more endangered, than ever; she was surprised the Turks hadn’t come for her yet.

And now, Aerith’s love had disappeared without a trace… Elmyra couldn’t believe Zack would deliberately hurt her, but whatever his intentions, it didn’t stop Aerith’s muffled sobs heard late into at night, the cheer of her aura dimmed. No matter what Aerith said, Elmyra wanted to put the blame on Zack. He had given her kisses and promises; where was he when it was time to stand by his duty?

“What do you want to do?” she asked her daughter.

Aerith remembered back to a day at a train station, her mother handing her to a stranger, trusting that her daughter would be safe… She reached to her braid to feel, force of habit, for the materia nestled there. There was so much she didn’t remember about her life before then, but – and she’d never told Elmyra this – she remembered that day perfectly… and the choice her mother had made, the risk she had taken with her last breaths.

She let out a deep breath of regret, poignancy. “I don’t have any choice,” she said, subdued. “I’m going to have to give the baby away.”

Elmyra looked at her daughter, hearts breaking in tandem. There was no consolation to be given. She knew Aerith was right. She had been able to keep Aerith safe all these years only through the grace of Tseng, who wanted her to come willingly. With a baby… there was no way Shinra would let that chance snap away.

All her regrets about Zack being in SOLDIER. _Trading a normal life for power, they do. You can’t have it both ways._ Tearing away Aerith’s semblance of normalcy in the process. But life in the slums taught you, you did what had to be done…

She asked around, discreetly, perhaps less so as Aerith’s pregnancy became more obvious; the rumor traveled through the slums, the neighbors more than willing to help one of their own survive, prosper. They never asked why Aerith’s baby was in danger; it was understood that business was her own. No one inquired to closely when someone had problems with Shinra, their universal, unspoken enemy with feelers everywhere. Shinra usually meant something that was dangerous to know.

Finally, word came to her, of a woman, marriage as childless as Elmyra’s had been, here in town with a delegation. Elmyra carefully gathered information, impressions, finally arranging a meeting. She spoke with the woman, made her judgments, but in the end it was for Aerith to decide.

Aerith, morose, accepted her mother’s idea whole. “How far away does she live?” was the only real question she asked.

Elmyra told her.

“That seems far enough,” Aerith replied.

******

Kunsel was nearly on top of her, she so absorbed in the flowers that she didn’t even notice.

“Hi,” he said, and she jumped.

He’d had his suspicions, but he needed to be sure. And here was the evidence. That blossoming glow of a mother-to-be, over a six-month stomach.

_Zack’s child_ , Kunsel thought with a barbed sting. _Zack, dammit, where are you?”_

“Kunsel,” she said, demure. “You… startled me.”

There was a sorrow in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Kunsel knew what it meant. It was the sort of grief that when life gives it to you, no matter what, you were never the same. It was the sadness of having loved, a sweet pain worth the scars.

“I haven’t heard from him,’ he answered the question that stood there, awaiting him. “Aerith, I tried to find out. I haven’t found out anything. There’s a killed-in-action notice for Zack and Sephiroth, did you know that?”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Aerith said.

“Neither do I,” Kunsel replied.

Neither of them were strangers to the ways of Shinra. Kunsel had only been able to figure out the barest sketch of why Shinra wanted Aerith, but even going as far as to find out it involved Hojo was enough to sicken him and make him not want to find out more. He’d been able to hack into some of the files about Ifalna, and that was enough. There were things in there Aerith should never know.

No wonder Aerith was frightened.

“What are you going to do about…” He motioned.

She told him.

Kunsel’s heart went out for her. He was slated to move up to First Class very soon, but he was still no Zack Fair. If he were in any sort of position to protect her… For Zack’s sake, he would. Until the mystery could be solved and they could all be reunited once again. But he had no illusions; he didn’t have that kind of power.

He looked over. “Your wagon’s still broken,” he observed. “I know you wanted to wait for Zack, but... Do you want me to try and fix it instead?” A small thing, but maybe something he could do for her.

Aerith looked at the wagon, its poor wheel bent and misshapen. Why had she ever thought the wagon wasn’t cute enough? It was perfect in every way. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to use it. “I… I think I’m going to just try using a basket. Start off small, you know. A little at a time.” She paused. “Because, now, I have to do it alone.”

Kunsel could only nod, reluctant understanding. “Hey, Aerith, you still have my PHS number, right?” She nodded. “Promise me you’ll call. If you need anything. Anything it all, okay?”

_Kunsel_ , Aerith thought. Such a good friend to Zack. Him and… that other guy… had Zack ever mentioned his name? Some trooper he hung out with a lot. _Zack’s closest friends_. She wished him goodbye with a lump in her throat. When she was losing so much in her life, anyone who was a stable presence – even Tseng - was welcome.

_Zack, where are you?_

******

The pangs started early in the morning, April first.

Elmyra was woken by her daughter’s loud sobs, she running to her room, already knowing. Aerith was clutching her belly, face contorted. “Mom,” she sobbed, “it’s starting.”

_She’s not ready,_ Elmyra thought, frightened. Then again, who could ever be? Anyway, it wasn’t like Aerith had a choice in the matter now; they just had to do what was needed. They’d agreed. They had to do this at home; the less people who knew, the better. But fortunately, there was no better person than her mother to help her through this; she’d delivered most of the babies in the neighborhood. Never, though, with as much fear and anticipation as she approached this one, the miracle of another life entering the world that would be her grandchild, bonds of love if not flesh following through the ether, wherever the child might go.

Elmyra started water boiling on the stove, gathered the supplies she needed. They’d had them set out for weeks now, just in case. She ran warm water into the tub, for Aerith to sink into, except when she wanted to get up around. She’d already coached her daughter to listen to her body, act with her instincts, a woman’s own body leading her through something that had happened so many times through the eons, but never lost its magic.

She wished she had some materia to help kill the pain. At least she had her old remedies, potions homebrewed preferred over those on the market, to help her through the worst. She barely trusted commercial preparations from Shinra in the first place; ever less when there was a baby involved, not when it carried Aerith’s mysterious heritage.

When she came back to the bedroom, Aerith had undone her hair, holding her mother’s materia in her doubled hands. The mother-of-pearl finish seemed to shimmer in response. Reminiscence grabbing her, Elmyra wondered about that woman at the train station, _Aerith’s real mother_. Could she see them from the Lifestream? How she must wish she could be with her daughter now. Elmyra felt she owed it to that poor deceased lady to take the role of them both.

Even after the pain went down, Aerith couldn’t help but cry; and Elmyra knew it was not physical pain that was hurting her so. But all the same, her young body strained, pushing, fighting for something it wasn’t entirely prepared for. Hours dragged on, the birth taking the time it needed as Aerith finally succumbed, vulnerable, to the mercy of nature and the Lifestream.

The clock had long since struck midnight when Aerith cried out with one final push, and it was followed by a baby’s wailing cry in echo. Aerith, smiling through the tears, reached for it, love brimming in her eyes. Elmyra cut the cord, placed the baby in her daughter’s arms, for the only minutes her daughter and grandchild would share.

Aerith marveled at the tiny hands, the delicate features, hair too sparse to tell the color for sure. “You are a child of love,” she murmured gently, echoing her natural mother’s words, so long ago. Regrets, longing, but nothing to be done but take the pain, allow it to become part of herself. As much as she’d chosen her path, knew what she had to do, she knew as well - she would never be the same person again.

Some things in life were irrevocable.

Instead, she sent all her wishes, all the power along her Cetra lineage, towards the baby and its future, her hopes that it would escape the orbit of Shinra and live free. Maybe someday, she would too, and they could be reunited again.

Exhausted, she found herself lulled into a softened sleep, the baby nestled against her breasts. But before she slipped away into motherly bliss, she turned to look at the clock. It had been nearly twenty-four hours.

It was well into the next day.

“April second, Zack,” she whispered to her baby’s cooing face. Newborn eyes slowly closed, and she gave herself this one chance to nurse, bliss at having her baby close. “It would have been two years today.”

*******

All her old clothes were useless, too tight now for her filled-out curves. Aerith knew she’d never return to her girlish thinness - Elmyra had warned her as much. It left yet another marker on her body that would remind her, every day.

She was aware that nostalgia was taking hold as she found herself reaching for pink. Whisper-soft pastel pink, bright pink, dark pink. Stubbornly, she made her choices, as if the color was somehow a source of strength.

She was determined to start selling her flowers; her looks, her personality, all part of her arsenal of opportunity. With that in mind, she matched incongruously a solid pair of black leather boots that would figuratively and literally carry her farther and further than her old sandals would. Almost as an afterthought, she added a set of bangles for each wrist, they clinking against each other like bells, the sound comforting.

Taking it all home, she tried piece after piece, looking herself over in the mirror. She braided her materia into its customary place, remembering the way her mother used to have to do it for her; then with a deep sigh, typing Zack’s ribbon around it all. She noted with satisfaction it set off the whole outfit, making her feel somehow, _whole_ again - even as it reminded her of all she had lost, wound heartrending and fresh.

The flowers had always bloomed well near her home, but while she was pregnant, they had positively exploded into a profusion of varieties and colors, covering the small hillock on which her home sat. She started off small, picking a few blooms for the neighborhood, accepting whatever small payment someone would offer - or even taking none if it was for charity, content for the moment just to be spreading the cheer. The work gave her something to do with mind and hands that would otherwise be left bored and fretting. Other plants turned out to have medicinal properties, and those she gave freely as well, growing her reputation in the sector.

She had many acquaintances, knowing a little of everyone in the neighborhood, and they knew her. She aided with odd jobs here and there, whatever the neighbors needed, channeling her energy into helping others as there was little she could do to help herself. But all the same, she kept few truly close, no one she truly called a friend. It was as things always had been, just she and her mother with Shinra lurking behind, as she slowly let go of her dream of a life that went down a different path.

Even so, she never truly got lonely. Her comfort was in the peace of the church, she alone with the planet. The strange creature that had protected her came and went, the rafters of the church a quasi-permanent home, she and it together observing silent vigil over Zack’s missing memory. As it flapped its wings lazily, disrupting the dust of the church where the interior crumbled into decrepitude, she thought of the sky. _Flowers reach for the sky._ The same way she had once reached for Zack. Would she ever leave Midgar, the way Ifalna had told her to? Could she one day find the courage to reach out on her own?

In her more desolate moods, she wrote letters. One after another; she’d started before birth, but the correspondence continued, flowing like water to an unknown sink. At first detailed, then becoming more repetitive and rote, but always with the same love in the pages within. _Letters more than kisses unite souls._ Where had she heard that?

But where were all her words going? She handed them off to Tseng on his regular visits to the church, he leaving a noncommittal promise to get the letters where they needed to be, but gave no inkling of where that might be. Eventually, she started to wonder if he didn’t actually know.

A time or two, she considered going to him for help. Should she take him up on his offer? Should she ask him to help her leave Midgar? In the end, she realized none of these things were what she needed to fill her aching hole.

It was no one’s job to save her. For the moment, she was just a survivor. That was all she could hope to be, days passing by just a conjunction to the next and the next. A wilting flower, she was, during that time - flower patch in the church reflecting her faded self, the readings of her soul as they drooped, and it was only for their sake that she struggled to lift her mood.

Despite the grit and filth, the slums held her firm, the armor of the steel sky above her protection from giving up. Starved for their connection to the Planet, the people turned to each other, and wasn’t that the same thing after all? To find something outside yourself, something part of the whole, all those dreams and hopes intermingling, creating something more; a sector that formed a rusty version of home, that for most was more than enough. Those were the kinds of lessons she hoped to teach people, the flowers being her words to speak.

She still found herself afraid, though, to go above the plate, the part of her resisting with every cell the idea of going it alone. Zack’s words came back to her, that day at the playground – the last she’d ever seen of him. _Of course they’re beautiful. Aerith tended to them with love and care. It’s our dream to fill Midgar with flowers…_ and she had hung her head, thinking of so many dreams she wanted with him. With them, together.

She’d told him that day, _I’m ready,_ not really knowing what she was ready for. And he’d promised… He’d be there with her. Her hero. She could trust him, feel safe with him – but all that was gone. Now, she could only rely on herself.

*******

It was a chance meeting that changed her path.

Walking near the weapon store, she spied an unfamiliar man – if she didn’t know him, he certainly didn’t belong to the Sector. His unusual style and travel-worn clothing suggested he was not from the slums at all. She caught a snippet of conversation. “- never seen anything like the monster problem you have in Midgar – “

Her curiosity piqued, she approached. “Excuse me,” she asked, the shop owner and the man turning as one, “what was that you were saying about the monster problem in Midgar?”

He looked at her, kind brown eyes, wisps of hair barely covering a middle-aged head. “I was just saying how the outside world is so different. You’ve got monsters popping up everywhere in Midgar from all the mako in those reactors. It was only a matter of time before the creatures exploded, and they sure have. You’ve never been outside?”

_Once, almost,_ she thought. “No,” she told him. “I’ve been in the slums all my life.”

“Well, it’s pretty bad outside the gates, but then as you leave Midgar it declines steeply. By the time you get to my hometown, it’s just regular, weak beasts.”

“Where are you from?” she asked him.

“Kalm,” he replied. _Kalm._ She knew where it was on a map, but not much else. Some rumors of Shinra activity, years back, never definitively confirmed. Where was Shinra _not_ involved, anyway? “I’ve heard it’s nice there,” she told him.

“It’s different, for sure.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “A slum girl. You must be used to those things. You’d have no problem traveling.”

She blushed. “Well… you see… I don’t actually know how to fight,” she admitted, embarrassed.

“In Midgar? How old are you, eighteen, twenty? It’s about time you learned. Everyone in the slums should at least carry a weapon.” He turned to the shop owner. “What kind of weapon would be best for her, do you think?”

“For Aerith?” The owner paused. “Maybe a staff. Good starter weapon, doesn’t need all that much strength, it’s all in the leverage. I just got a couple new kinds in a few days back.”

“Well, let’s get them out to take a look,” he reached for the proffered items, but Aerith put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I can’t really afford those,” she admitted awkwardly.

His eyes rested on her, following down to the basket in her arms. “Well, then,” he told her. “Those are some very pretty flowers. You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been away from Kalm, and those flowers kind of remind me at home. How about… a trade? I always feel like I find more interesting things bartering over buying.”

Aerith found herself without a way to politely decline, and wordlessly handed over the basket. It had some of her favorites – near-white lilies, purple dahlias, bright daffodils. Mentally, she catalogued their meanings. _Modesty. Dignity. New beginnings._

Maybe it was a fair trade after all.

Nevertheless, she winced at the weapon’s price. Trade or not, it was certainly more than she would ever expect for any of her flowers, even with she insisting he buy the cheapest guard stick they had available. (“Eco-friendly,” the shop told her with a smile, for herself even more than for the money. “Kind of makes sense for a flower girl, doesn’t it?”)

She tested the weight experimentally. She could do this. “Do you even know at _all_ how to use it?” the stranger asked.

“Uh… no.” She lifted it to eye level. Not a giant sword, but it might be just enough.

“Well, then I s’pose I could take some time to teach you a few things,” he suggested.

Aerith was grateful for his offer. “I didn’t even get your name,” she said.

“Names sometimes tell who a person is, and sometimes they don’t mean much,” he replied. “Might as well just call me Traveler.”

She took him to a small packed-dirt clearing just off the path to her house, and for the rest of the day, he taught her the basics, drilling her over and over until she felt she had the hang of it.

By the time the sun set, he left with a warm goodbye, basket of her blossoms hooked over one arm as he walked away. He’d said he was leaving town early in the morning; she wondered if she would ever see him again.

But the lessons he’d given her served her well. It was on her own that she learned to channel magical energy through the staff’s path, using little more effort than the most basic concentration, the way everyone knew to use simple materia shards. But she could heal even without materia; for her it was nothing. Months passed as she practiced, and besides having another outlet for her energy, she found her confidence increasing as well.

She still wrote letters, perhaps by now out of simple stubbornness, but found anger as much as sadness welling up as yet another envelope was taken away without a response. It had been more than two years, and she still didn’t know what had happened. Had he abandoned her? Left her for whatever Shinra demanded of him, maybe found someone else along the way? She’d always thought he wasn’t meant for Shinra, it wasn’t who he was – could she really have been so wrong? The Planet didn’t seem to think so. _Then why this?_

SOLDIER still frightened her. She didn’t think that would ever change. The Turks, not so much, Tseng still a part of her life, as regular as rain and at least as ephemeral. They belonged to the world – above, a world she still shrank from. The day she had been putting off for so long was becoming imminent. She couldn’t be a coward forever.

She gripped the stick, withdrawn into its retractable casing but ready to expand at the pop of a button, flower basket over her left arm. She’d chosen a variety of her brightest blooms for the occasion, their windswept voices providing her companionship and comfort.

Nerves wracked her stomach as she approached the station, memories of another station nearby from THAT day… She reached up instinctively to the sphere hidden in her hair, the passing touch giving her the same comfort it always did, just the sensation of it near being enough to move her feet forward as she drew near the jostling crowds.

She boarded, settling into her seat as the train began to move, its clanking merging with the buzz of the people around her, noise and light a vigorous tableau for her senses. As it pulled out of the station, she realized that since that day, she’d never actually been on a train – like most slum residents, walking was enough for her. Occasionally, a chocobo carriage for special occasions. But the trains…

Slowly, terror made way to fascination, and she looked around in wonder at the flashing scenery as it left the ground floor and began its circular climb up the pillar. Moments of blackness interspersed the journey as it traveled through tunnels. She absorbed the energy of those around her, their nonchalance reassuring her that she was safe, that there was no cause for concern. She adjusted her arms and dress slightly, pulling further into herself in the tight-packed space, and settled in to wait.

It was almost a disappointment when their destination was finally announced; and she realized, this part of her adventure was over. She disembarked, the flood of the crowd carrying her home, Shinra workers boarding for the trip below even as celebrants exited to the dark sky outside. She looked up, entranced; stars blocked out by the lights of Midgar, as blinding above as below, but with a blanket of evening, she felt… comforted. Safe. Like she was wrapped up snug, nestled softly inside instead of a wide-open blue bowl threatening to swallow her up.

She followed the stream of people to the exit of the station down a slim lane, when she felt the flowers reach out through the pulse of life, sensing something off to the side. Following their lead, she was drawn to a vent off to the side, and she leaned forward to the greenish glow below in anticipation.

_Lifestream._

Not completely pure, but it was there; some residue of the processed mako the city so depended on, escaping up to the surface. She dunked her head in, breathing in that feeling of light and life, her soul connecting with the Planet and everything it contained. The flowers hummed their approval, their silent words for her ears only; and she stood to her feet, renewed.

Bearing the sensation in her mind, the thought gave her wings. Unafraid, she stepped out into the streets of Sector 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote about the flowers and letters is from John Donne, and it just fit so perfectly here.
> 
> I’m into the meanings of flowers, and that is actually what the flowers in Aerith’s basket (the ones she gives to the Kalm traveler) mean.
> 
> Gonna try to get up at least one more chapter for you this weekend!


	21. 0005-0007

Seventh Heaven was hers.

The owner had died peacefully in the night. There was no will. Inquiries turned up no living relatives, and few even dead. Land meant little in the slums; it belonged to those willing to build on it, and maintain whatever shacks they elected to raise.

Seventh Heaven was much more than a shack.

Of course, gaining the building did not mean she inherited the business; there wasn’t revenue left for her to keep going. She was grateful now for the savings she had been squirreling away in tins and jars, no more trusting than any other slum resident of Shinra’s banks.

And she truly was a slum resident now, something she’d certainly never expected to be, in a Nibelheim that seemed worlds and lifetimes away. One amongst many in a city without a sky. She still missed that part, though – not so much during the day, when sun flowed in from the sides of the city, accompanied by the gigantic Shinra sun lamps above, two together forming an adequate substitute. No, it was the night, the moon, the twinkling of a wide expanse of stars through a navy-brushed sky, reminding her of a long-ago promise between a boy and a girl – children who were now a woman belonging to a different world, and a man out there somewhere in the unknown.

She still looked for Cloud’s name sometimes, but it was a fruitless search borne more out of habit than any real expectation of results. Was he still with Shinra – had he ever been with them at all? He could be lost amongst the throngs in Midgar; he could be halfway around the world. Sometimes, she realized with a shudder that she didn’t know if he was alive at all.

Constructed images of his look as a man grew hazy in her deepest, most intimate fantasies, where a perfect Cloud touched her in every way she wanted. But those were only dreams. A strange itch that now lived only in fantasy, her built-up image of him in her head, increasingly divorced from any knowledge of reality. Their promise, taken at face value, now seemed so… _silly_. Why had his leaving bothered her so much?

And above all… in the end, he’d failed her, hadn’t he? In her direst hour of need, he hadn’t been there. A flickering mage of seeing him in the reactor that day – but she knew it wasn’t real, a pain-induced hallucination of a wish that wouldn’t come true. Sometimes, with regards to Cloud, she thought _fuck you_ \- ashamed to admit that once she’d wanted to do exactly that.

Age eighteen, and she was disillusioned, world-weary, trying hard to hold onto her anger only to keep sadness at bay. It hadn’t taken her long to find out that the rest of the world knew nothing of what had happened in Nibelheim. ( _Zack_ , she wondered. What had ever happened to him? Could Shinra make a First Class SOLDIER just disappear?) From then on, she hid the secret of her hometown from everyone, tucked away with the nagging suspicion she was the only survivor.

Nibelheim was nothing more, lost in the ashes with the last of her childhood. The girl belonged to Nibelheim; the woman, to Midgar.

She had a woman’s responsibilities, a business to run, and she found simple joy in that achievement. Outside of supplies; there wasn’t much she bought; she needed little for herself. Her cooking got better as she learned to improvise with the limited options available; she actively daydreamed of vegetables. Eggs aplenty, the protein of choice in the slums, while those on the plate had chicken; cheap, nutritious, versatile. Tifa learned fifty ways to cook an egg, forty-three more than she had known at home.

She trained. Daily, vigorously. It made her a familiar sight around the neighborhood. Her body continued to strengthen, tone, from gangly girl to stripped-down fighter, no delicate flower blooming in the slums. She pared down her outfit for movement, added rough steel-toe boots, fire-red, the color of courage. Fighting gloves, leather and metal extensions of her own hands, and she could feel her energy joining with them like her own skin. Hardened and humble. Her new identity.

******

Tseng lived with his regrets. Once, he’d worried he was running out of time; now it seemed he had nothing _but_ time, to bide, waiting, for the chance that hadn’t been there, that day in Nibelheim.

In the meantime, all he could do was resign himself to waiting and watching over Aerith. Slowly, over time, he felt it was safe to allow the other Turks back on her surveillance detail, as her secret receded further and further into the past. But it was only to Tseng that she would give her letters, even now at least one nearly every time she saw him; and his heart sank.

The gentle, stubborn girl, whose guardian he was. He couldn’t even comprehend the way she lived, and yet… he was jealous in many ways. Glimpses of a life he had left behind for the electric Towers of Shinra and an existence in the shadows. Doing the dirty work so others would not have it on their consciences, trying to keep a grasp on their own humanity despite it all.

At least they were not mindless machines like Shinra trained its troops to be. But Zack had never succumbed, had he? Even as Genesis, Angeal, Sephiroth were lost, he always maintained his humanity, the honor that Angeal spoke of finding its home burrowed deep in his own flesh, the living embodiment of his mentor’s teachings, actions proving what words could not.

In the quiet of his mind, he cursed Shinra for wasting a man like that; the start of Shinra spelling its own doom. That trooper, Cloud Strife, as well. Everything they should be looking for in their people, and for what end? Kowtowing to the demands of that sick fuck Hojo, feeding his inhuman greed for – _what, exactly_ , Tseng didn’t know, Hojo’s motivations too twisted for life. Wasting without restraint some of its most valuable assets.

It hurt to see Aerith waving another letter before him, her bright green eyes searching his for some hint of the truth. But he took the coward’s way out, hoping to spare her the pain of knowing of a fate he didn’t want to think of himself. Was he really making the right choice, denying her closure? Instead, he took the pink envelopes, scented with a perfume Zack had once bought her, with a vague promise that they would be delivered.

He made sure he never told her when.

The letters were the most burning contraband he owned. Too many questions, too many secrets it might lead to, even as Aerith’s words taken at face value told nothing important - just sentimental thoughts of a broken-hearted girl. But still he kept them, biding his time until opportunity came, covered in guilt and shame, hoping she would find it in her heart to forgive him one day. He still wanted her to come to Shinra willingly, not a prisoner; and every day she lived safe and free was another small victory to him.

All he could do was what the Turks did best. Wait, and watch.

******

Barret really hadn’t planned to come back to Midgar. But a child changed lots of things.

He was discovering every day how many.

His life had been reduced to rubble that day, but Marlene opened up a small ray of light. Wound cauterized free of pain, he’d kept forgetting he was missing a hand, reaching with the burned-out stump as he fumbled through the wreckage of Corel, Calling for Myrna, for Eleanor. His wife and his best friend’s, both women entombed under blasted rocks and boulders. 

All he found was the baby.

Marlene might have cried for her mother if words weren’t still months away. He’d never actually picked her up before – but carefully, with a grace he didn’t know he possessed, he nested her in the crook of his right elbow, finding that he could brace overdeveloped coal-miner’s muscle enough to hold her firm.

He followed a trail of villages, stopping only to get his wound bandaged, aiming to steer away the looks of question and disgust, avoiding any mention of Corel even as he saw other lives destroyed far and wide. Shinra’s bloodied hand spread far, and he wondered if anywhere was safe from their influence. Made him feel like a monster, that, but he had the little girl – _his_ little girl now, for better or worse – to keep him human. Even with one hand, his brute strength let him find work for a day, a week; while cooing wives watched and fussed over baby Marlene.

He’d managed to save up so money when he first heard of a woman specializing in prosthetic limbs and unexpected attachments. She was a sight herself when he met her; one arm fully prosthetic, as was one eye; and it left Barret feeling somehow less… _alone?_ Strange. She’d looked him over, poked, prodded.

“What kind of attachment did you want?” she asked. “Just to replace what you had, or improve it? I have all kinds of advanced prosthetic hands – “

“No,” Barret replied, grim. “Make it a gun.”

He looked down at the steel and oil that now was part of his body, his spliced-in nerves able to feel concretely the bullets, the anger. Emblazoned on his form, his hatred and pride. The scars of suffering that everyone bears, whether on their body or in their head, marks of lives and selves changed forever.

His daughter barely reacted to the change, he having to teach her that arm was something Bad To Touch. Amazing what kids could grow up with to think of as natural. Marlene walked. And talked. Her first word, “Papa”, melted his heart; he’d been so afraid she would burst out with a curse or, worse yet, “Shinra” – but she didn’t, and that moment proved to him more than anything that he was her father. And she, the light of his life. His reminder and reason to keep going.

It was for the sake of opportunity alone that he was driven to the wealth of Midgar. It was the best place to find the things he needed for Marlene; everything was available, it was just a matter of hunting down the source. Once there, however, he found another advantage – it was incredibly easy to just disappear, even distinct as he was. Shinra didn’t give a shit about what happened in the slums.

He could find work. Better paying than he’d had before. Labor, sometimes. Security, often, his qualifications a given; he didn’t need to do much more than _look_ at some young punk to get him to back off.

Not enough to move up to the plate, though; the monetary divide was far too great. Still, Marlene grew and thrived. He couldn’t wait to get home every night, to play with the little baby that brought meaning to his life; when he couldn’t find someone to watch her, he’d even bring her on the job, one eye always attuned to the stroller where she slept. Soon enough she was running, speaking whole sentences, and laughing with joy like any other little girl.

He moved around. Tried Sector 2, Sector 8. Sector 5 was supposed to be the best for kids, but even that was out of his price range. Steered well away from Sector 6. Then someone suggested Sector 7 as a possible alternative.

Taking his little girl by the hand, they rode the train to the end of the line to find out.

Marlene was a conversation piece; people might have run from the big guy with the gun grafted to his arm if it wasn’t for the little girl, adorable in her best pinafore dress, smiling and protected by his side. Inquiries soon directed him to the neighborhood watch; a couple guys named Biggs and Wedge, sent him to those who could help him out, find some work, get settled.

He asked around all day; it was hungry work. Eventually it was time to look for a bite to eat. They had a suggestion for that as well…

*******

Tifa thought the slums had made her worldly. Nothing much surprised her, now.

But she still did a double take when a large man - with a _gun,_ of all things, attached to his arm - entered Seventh Heaven one day. She might have been afraid, but despite his size and armament, she felt no menace.

And that was even before she saw the small girl at his side.

He lifted the toddler up to one of her barstools with the greatest of care, and Tifa felt herself warmed inside. The little girl – barley out of diapers, it seemed – chattered on the way all small children do.

“How sweet!” Tifa said brightly. “Welcome to Seventh Heaven, both of you. I’m Tifa, the owner here.” She motioned to her small array of bottles, the kitchen off to the side. “What can I get you? Food? A cocktail? A juice?”

“Juice!” shouted the little girl.

“Yeah, honey, Papa will get you some juice,” he said, his voice honey-sweet, marking him her father. _Some orphan, then,_ Tifa noted. That happened so often in the slums; she was glad this little girl had someone to take care of her. Sparkling brown eyes, full of innocence and love. Reaching a part of her heart that Tifa hadn’t felt beating in a while.

“I’m Barret,” the man introduced himself. “This here’s my daughter, Marlene.”

“What a beautiful girl,” Tifa cooed, and Marlene giggled.

Marlene ordered pizza and “juice!” was her only other exclamation; Tifa mixed her a fruit punch with what was available, the kid sucking down the sweetness before her dad gently took the cup away from her. “Now, now, sweetheart, you want some with your dinner, too, don’t you?”

“What would you like, Barret?” she asked politely.

“Pizza’s fine too. No need to make a fuss. I’ll just have a beer or something. Don’t wantcha working too hard.”

“It’s really no trouble,” Tifa assured him. “Don’t you want me to mix something up? It’s kind of my hobby.”

Barret looked at her. “All right, girl,” he told her. “Surprise me.”

Tifa smiled, and started filling the shaker.

The evening rush came in and Tifa’s attention was split, but Barret and Marlene stayed, she returning to their company whenever she had a spare moment. In between, they took advantage of Seventh Heaven’s other distractions. Barret threw a couple games of darts; Marlene was captivated by the flashing lights of the pinball machine across the room. Tifa got the rudiments of their story, their arrival in Sector 7, looking for work and shelter.

“My hobby is studying planetology,” he told her. “The science started way over in Cosmo Canyon. All kinds of interesting stuff. ‘Bout mako, and how it’s sucking the Planet dry.”

Tifa thought of the hard dead soil of Midgar, then back to the lush mountains above Nibelheim. The mako spring, so long ago, _before_ … No point in bringing that up now.

Eventually, the night slowed, and right on time, Tifa felt her eyes drooping, as she cleared tables and lowered the lights. Being a one-woman business was wearing; for that reason as much as any other nowadays, it helped to keep in shape. Marlene’s eyes mirrored her own, and Barret waved her over.

“Take a seat,” he told her. “You’ve worked hard enough tonight.”

“All part of making your way in the slums,” she told him; but, pouring herself a drink first, she sank gratefully onto one of her own seats, enjoying her moment of playing customer.

Impulsively, she reached out her arms to Marlene, and the girl wiggled over into her lap, reaching a strand of Tifa’s dark hair. She reminded herself she _still_ hadn’t cut it since coming to Midgar; for reasons unknown, she kept always putting it off. Gently removing the girl’s hand, Marlene instead curled up and went to sleep in an instant. Tifa folded her warm arms around her, the closeness feeling so natural and right… and an old ache deep in her heart flared up. For all she had made her life here, she knew what she wanted in the end. A home, a family. That dream never went away.

Barret looked at her in approval. “I try, but there ain’t no substitute for a woman’s touch.”

Tifa stroked Marlene’s silky fine hair, soft skin of her face; the only response was a slight shift in her position, no interruption to the child’s even breathing. “You said you needed a place to stay,” she started.

“Yeah, if you can just point me towards an inn or something, we’ll get out of your hair,” Barret told her.

“Well, the thing is… there isn’t actually an inn here,” Tifa replied. There really wasn’t. Visitors stayed at the homes of whoever they came to see, and it wasn’t like there was exactly a lot of tourism. Even Seventh Heaven, popular as it was locally, wasn’t enough to draw out-of-sector business. “I mean… I have a couple rooms upstairs that I rent out, sometimes.” Unofficially. She only rented to people she trusted, but she felt okay with these two. “You can stay for a few days.”

“I got some money,” Barret told her, reaching for his pouch.

“We’ll worry about payment later,” she told him. Right now… I think we should probably get her to bed.”

Barret nodded, and Tifa rose in the empty bar, taking the girl upstairs to make up the bed and lay her down to sleep.

******

Days turned into weeks, then months. Barret found odd jobs, helped out the watch when he could. Biggs, Wedge and Jessie soon grew friendly with the big man as well, and they all started to form a tight-knit group, often talking late into the night after close, Marlene finding her sleepy home in someone’s lap. More often than not, that lap was Tifa’s, as she found herself bonding as naturally with the child as if she’d been there all along. Marlene’s presence brought a smile to her face in the mornings, ands kept her company all day while Tifa worked; Seventh Heaven guests found themselves charmed by the little girl pretending to be their waitress, even wandering behind the bar and shaking empty glasses in imitation of Tifa.

Barret’s favorite topic of conversation was the Planet. More specifically, how Shinra was “destroying all this shit,” as he put it. His energy infected Jessie, Biggs and Wedge, even Tifa herself.

“First my home in Corel, destroyed,” Barret fumed. “Then Gongaga. Malfunction, my ass. I see Shinra’s dirty hands all over it.” The latter, just the year before, was still being talked about, undercity residents looking worriedly up at Midgar’s eight. Tifa did the same every time she spied those steel smokestacks.

“Only those two?” Tifa asked, waiting to hear the word of Nibelheim, but it never came. Despite what happened… that day… the reactor seemed to be humming along, even with the town itself gone.

His speeches on the Planet inspired her, but it was his rants against Shinra that really incited Tifa. Hidden rivers of anger, surging deep below her surface. Absent-minded, she traced down her chest, mako-healed skin hiding a brush with death; but Tifa could still feel the sensation of razor-sharp blade slicing through. She shivered, and pulled Marlene closer.

*Over time, Barret’s rants grew into something more definite, more... _dangerous_. But it gave Tifa a shiver of excitement, anyway. The possibility of doing something, _anything_ , that she had been wanting for four years. And when Barret started talking about “thinking big” to save the planet, sweeping the others away with his passion, Tifa couldn’t help but feel herself be pulled in as well.

Even so, there was a divide. Barret might talk of big dreams to save the Planet. Tifa’s interests were… smaller. Closer to her heart. She’d thought she’d become indifferent to love, jaded; but that wasn’t it. She just hadn’t been looking in the right place. Marlene filled the void, the pure innocence of a child something untouchable any other way; and slowly, Tifa felt herself being healed. Her friends brought over other friends, dates – Biggs might be the looker, but Wedge’s big heart made him equally popular with the ladies, and Jessie was, just, well, popular all around. She’d curtailed severely her own dating life, as she found contentment in the everyday and the small recreation of family she had formed. New life, new courage. Learned the lessons of loneliness. She was a survivor, her _own_ hero. Forging her own path, all on her own, and that made her proud.

She’d been so spoiled not to realize what she had back in Nibelheim, but over time, the undercity began to feel less like an act of desperation, and she learned an important lesson.

The slums could be a home after all.

*******

Zangan hadn’t returned to Midgar in years. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Tifa; he would have loved to go check up on her. Eventually, he supposed he would. For the meantime, he felt confident she would find her way. She’d be swallowed up in the slums somewhere, living her life free, and that was he most wanted for her.

He hadn’t ever expected to be climbing up this hill again, but rumors had been dogging him, rumors that didn’t match his remembrance and, both intrigued and even a little frightened, he couldn’t pass up the chance to look.

So here he was, standing in the square of Nibelheim, staring at a town that looked so like the one he had lived for over a year… but it couldn’t be. He knew that. There was no one he remembered – strangers, all, he making discreet inquiries to hide the fact that he’d been there _when_. No sense courting trouble until he figured this out.

_Shinra_. It had to be. Despite his knowing the lengths they would go to protect themselves, this shocked all sense of reason. Then again – there was no word of survivors, no one who could tell the truth. It made him ever more grateful that he had gotten Tifa out that day. Those boys in the reactor – his heart went out to them, helpless to discover their fate. Something told him it was better he didn’t know. Nothing good could come where Hojo was involved.

The first place he went was Tifa’s house; the woman who answered the door, no one who had ever lived there. Beyond her, the interior similar but slightly different, giving away the lie that her practiced blank face did not. Zangan made his apologies, and departed.

But he bided his time until he was sure the house was empty.

A few scrawled notes, dangerous words both to him and its intended recipient. He had no way of knowing if she would ever find it, but somehow he felt he should leave her a warning. He made his way upstairs, and then he spied the obvious place – the piano.

It clearly wasn’t in actual use – the thick layer of dust on the cover attested to that. Carefully, without disturbing the grime, Zangan raised the lid, neatly slipping the letter under certain keys - a favored chord of hers, one he could see her reaching to hear again, if she ever found her way to this sham replica of the town.

Stealthy as he came, he departed, resolving never to return to Nibelheim, that scrawled piece of paper the only proof of his momentary presence, a few words reaching across time and space to another furtive survivor.

_Tifa, what’s happened to our town?_

*******

It was only a routine check of reports.

They were getting near, closing in on AVALANCHE proper; but a bigger worry was the splinter groups that it had inspired. Growing up like weeds, near impossible to get rid of; one pushed down, three more appeared. She was wondering if this was going to be nothing but an uphill battle after all.

They’d put eyes and ears everywhere they feasibly could; but there were so many people and places to watch just in Midgar alone. Special care was given to those of Wutaian descent; Cissnei felt a bizarre pang of homesickness for a country in which she was born, but had no memory of. Now, she belonged to the Turks more than any country.

She checked in with one sector every day a week, except for Sector 6, where the Don faithfully sent in reports on his own. Troubles overcast her work. If they didn’t get this under control, Would Shinra give up and pull Aerith in? For a while… _after_ … she and Tseng had been the only ones the man had permitted to survey Aerith; empathy for another woman made Cissnei’s job ever more difficult. It came as a relief to her when she was switched to other tasks, unable to handle any longer Aerith’s moping, bereft without knowledge of her love.

Mind traveling down darker passageways, she mindlessly flipped through the pages before her, the ennui of the work allowing her the separate train of thought.

Sector 7; Rude’s detail. He watched it so avidly, she wondered if he had a girlfriend there. You could never know with Turks and their personal lives, unless they chose to tell you. _Suspicions of unrest in the Sector 7 Neighborhood Watch._ Huh. No surprises there. The local militia would be the first ones to think they had a chance against Shinra, with their smattering of weapons and log of a few dozen monster kills like it was some major accomplishment. Cissnei could do all of that in the morning and still have time for a leisurely lunch, before an assassination or two in the afternoon.

Photos, mostly men, but a handful of women, too. That was usually the way it went. The Turks were much the same. But also following the Turk pattern, it would be the women who would be harder to track down, more sneaky and squirrely.

_Suspected sympathizer. Barret Wallace._ Point in question. Did that man actually have a GUN attached to his arm? Might as well put on a big sign saying “shit-stirrer”. _Hometown: Corel._ That would explain his grudge. She made a mental note to flag this guy for further surveillance.

A pretty redhead, the photo what looked like an actress’s headshot. _Suspected sympathizer. Jessie Rasberry._ She didn’t look like the sort to get in with that crowd, but Cissnei knew full well that appearances could be deceiving, not the least of it her own. _Parents lived in Sector 7 Employee Housing; father former reactor supervisor, permanently disabled after on-the-job accident._ So Shinra supports the family; they’d be giving them the man’s full salary as before _,_ plus whatever medical care was needed. _Way to bite the hand that feeds you._

She skimmed casually, already road-mapping the patterns of surveillance, who to assign where, when she flipped to the next image and stopped dead in her mental tracks.

There was no mistaking it. The face was older, more matured, but there was no mistaking who it was.

_Suspected sympathizer. Tifa Lockhart._


	22. December 9, 0006-July 0007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication this chapter for Neverlost, Final Heaven Discord member, for elements of Clack/Zackura within. WARNING: I think I broke my OWN heart writing this chapter. Extra thank you to Tifaleah for a last-minute beta read, while I was wondering “does this chapter hurt ENOUGH yet?”

_Clear_.

Zack couldn’t remember clear. _Green_. It had all been green inside his head for so long. How long, exactly, had that been? Days, weeks even, lost in that anesthetic dreamworld, his last real image of liquid burbling up before the dubious bliss of oblivion took over.

He recognized the green spilling across the floor for what it was. _Mako_ , the feeling resonated within, his own cells primed with the stuff. It splashed over shattered remains of glass, squirming as if alive. Stumbling forward in to the breakage, Zack forced himself to standing, turning shocked at what he saw. A TUBE??? Shinra had stuck him in a TUBE?!?

Was THIS the repayment for all he had done for them?

His vision sharpened as his body rapidly mended and strengthened, bringing the room into view. He tramped through the river of mako glubbing in puddles - the green disgusted him, but at least hit couldn’t hurt him. He spied a second tube. More green, this one still full. Inside…

CLOUD. _Oh, Cloud!_

He was a SOLDIER. He was _meant_ to be tough, to withstand whatever came his way – whatever had happened here, he’d leave it behind unscathed. But Cloud – FUCK, Cloud why did they do this to you! Cloud was just an ordinary grunt, unenhanced. Exposed to mako this strong…

Muscles long unused, weak and gelatinous, he fumbled with the buttons on the second column, relief washing over him as the green liquid drained away. Another button opened the sliding glass capsule, and Cloud’s body tumbled forward into his arms. Zack caught the smaller man easily, checking instinctively for a pulse, the sound of short, quiet breaths letting him know Cloud wasn’t dead.

Alive was at least a small blessing. “Cloud?” he asked, the first sound of his voice croaking in the gloom. “No response. His friend, purely catatonic – eyes far away, drifting deep in distant mako pools – but those same eyes now SHONE, the distinctive mako glow, an inevitable outcome of the immersion.

It might have been only the mako keeping Cloud alive. Zack couldn’t be sure. But even so, there was no question of leaving Cloud there – whatever mako had entered his bloodstream and cells would have to be enough to sustain him.

_Poisoning. Addiction_. Call it what you would – either way, Zack knew what it meant. Overdose, saturating Cloud into incoherency. Barely in this world at all. Trapped in a river of voices and souls, his own ego crushed under the weight of all those others. Cloud might or might not recover – Zack could only hope for the best, but expect the – _No, fuck that._ Zack would keep hoping, for both their sakes.

_He’s my friend,_ Zack thought. _I won’t let another friend die. Not on my watch_. Then and there, he made his silent promise. He had thought to be a hero, and look where it had got him and Cloud both. No more.

Now, he’d do what he knew to be right.

Besides, he certainly didn’t plan to leave him for whatever Shinra – no, _Hojo_ , this had his mark all over it, people nothing but specimens and experiments instead of human beings – intended. But regardless, Shinra had allowed it, even after Cloud had taken out Sephiroth for them - Cloud should have been lauded as a hero _._ He had to get Cloud out of here – maybe the other man wouldn’t survive, but being in this lab was nothing that could be called a life.

Zack looked around at the machines, the implements, and shuddered. Amnesia was doing him a favor – if anything had been done other than just shoving them into sample tubes and pickling them in vinegared mako – he didn’t want to know. The only thing he remembered with any solidity was a dream of sky and water, images of freedom while his body was confined, his mind reaching out through those rivulets of the Lifestream.

_Angeal_ , he remembered. A faint vision of his mentor… Could Angeal have somehow helped to release him? _Zack_ , the man who had been his pupil – the man who had killed him. It was Zack’s turn to pay it forward.

The Buster Sword lay right across the room, standing propped against the wall – had it been there already, or it had Angeal somehow placed it for him there, waiting? Irrational though that sounded, Zack hoped it was true, suddenly disgusted by the idea of anyone – worst of all Hojo! – handling his blade. Carefully setting Cloud down against the table, he strode to his weapon, hefting its familiar weight; he could still swing it comfortably, though not quite with the force he remembered.

“Can you walk, Cloud?” he asked to silence. Reaching down and pulling the other man up, he slung Cloud’s arm over his shoulder. Cloud’s legs stumbled forward with jerky, robotic steps, mindlessly moving in the direction Zack pushed, but at least supporting some of Cloud’s own weight. It was _something_. SOLDIER strength would let Zack carry Cloud for short distances, but how far was it to a place of safety?

If there WAS one anywhere to be had. Away from Shinra, that was for sure. But he didn’t know where they were NOW, much less how far they might have to go. All he could do was brace for the start of what might be a long road ahead.

There was no one to be seen, no life apparent other than themselves in the dank laboratory. He swung open the door to find another empty hall, as hollow as the tomb it resembled. Zack poised for confrontation, ready to protect both his life and Cloud’s - anything better than going back to that green prison – but there was no soul to be found here, either, just a smattering of bats that Zack dismissed with a contemptuous flick of the sword.

Relaxing his guard somewhat, he wondered why. Had Shinra no fear of Zack and Cloud escaping, to leave no researchers or guards? It suggested more and more to him some unanticipated intervention in their escape. _Angeal, was it really you after all?_

But another, more morbid thought followed. _Could it be Shinra no longer cared?_ Could they have been left down here, even forgotten? Maybe they would have lived out the rest of their lives in green-suspended animation – or even beyond, doomed never to truly die, a living mako-preserved corpse left hidden for eternity.

The thought gave Zack chills.

Abruptly, Zack stumbled a step in the pitch-black hallway – even with his luminescent mako vision, he could barely make out the staircase spiraling above. And all at once, he realized where he was. _The Shinra mansion_ \- he’d never left Nibelheim at all. The place where he’d awoken had been rearranged just enough that he hadn’t recognized it earlier.

He tripped on another stair, nearly dropping Cloud – the man did not so much as grunt. Slowly, painstaking time drawing out, he forged his way to the top.

_Supplies_. They would be upstairs. Still no sign of human habitation, though there were traces of monsters wisely shrinking back from the sudden mako-radiant presence among them. How long had this place been abandoned that MONSTERS were able to infect the interior? Zack had no idea how long they would have needed to take over the place like this.

He wondered even more how long that might be, after he dragged Cloud upstairs, plopping his inert form on one of the musty beds, sending a cloud of ash-gray dust into the stagnant air. Looking out the windows, a greater shock than any since he had woken up greeted him – Nibelheim – just as he remembered it. BEFORE.

Those last views of it, burning flames everywhere – could those memories possibly be WRONG? _They couldn’t be_ … he remembered the rest all too well, the reactor, Sephiroth… clear in his mind like it was yesterday. Which to his memory, it really was.

He looked at Cloud with compassion. Nibelheim was not Zack’s hometown. But in that brutal day, Cloud’s entire life burned away, his past swept over the mountainside in charred carbon sparks. Followed by Shinra stealing his mind and soul. For a moment, Zack was perhaps grateful Cloud was not yet alert… how would he handle that crushing blow of loss? How could _anyone_ handle the brunt of that knowledge and keep himself whole? What kind of strength of character would that entail?

Zack didn’t have that answer.

Nibelheim couldn’t have been REBUILT already, could it? How much time would THAT have taken? Shinra had the efficiency, the resources, to rebuild for whomever survived – how many people had lived through the mass destruction he’d witnessed? He’d thought the town burned to nothing, but if there was enough structure remaining – he couldn’t be certain what things looked like after he’d went to the reactor, after all –

_The reactor_. Tifa bleeding her life away. She was dead now, Zack knew, grateful he didn’t have to break the news to Cloud – QUITE yet. He turned to the man in question, stretched out just as Zack had left him, head dangling forward, half-closed eyes dropped down to the faded bedspread.

Both their uniforms were undamaged, perfectly preserved by the mako, the cloth completely soaked in the stuff. Zack didn’t want Cloud wrapped in it any longer than he had to be. Searching the neighboring rooms he found a cabinet stocked with uniforms, including those of SOLDIER – third, second, first classes all. Rummaging instinctively through the first class uniform, he found first his own size, then Cloud’s. “Well, buddy, guess you’re getting a promotion,” he joked, tossing the smaller uniform onto the bed to his unresponsive friend.

Laughter felt so hollow when it wasn’t shared.

He hauled Cloud first to the bathroom, reassured to find out Cloud could perform at least that most basic of bodily functions, though Zack had to hold his penis for him – He was mortified. Not for himself – he had no hesitation helping a comrade out this way, if that’s what was needed – but because Cloud would be so embarrassed if he knew. The other man was nothing more than a helpless invalid; Zack would have to play nurse to him, feeding him and cleaning him – and though it broke his heart to see his buddy – his FRIEND – reduced to this, he would perform the necessary duties with pride. Small things were all he could do for Cloud now – it would have to be enough.

He manhandled Cloud into the shower, taps whining from lack of use, but water rushing out, rust brown at first but then clearing. Awkwardly, Zack shed his own drenched attire – not like there was anyone to see, anyway – and got in to rinse as well. Gently letting Cloud slump to the floor, he let soothing warm water run over him, removing grime and filth that was far more emotional soil than any real dirt. An ancient bar of soap, hardened and cracked, served its purpose – Zack’ lathered himself lightly, then turned to Cloud to scrub the hell out of him, determined to get every last drop of mako off his skin.

Pity he could not do anything to clear out whatever had seeped inside Cloud’s body. Rinsing the suds and green into the drain, Zack tenderly dried his unresponsive friend, pulling on the new clothes and kicking the old off to the side scornfully, before dressing himself as well. The new uniforms smelled as stale as the rest of the room, but they would air out soon enough. If only they had something to wear besides Shinra‘s rags – but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He found provisions. Canned goods, dried meat. He shoved them all in a pillowcase torn from the bed, glancing furtively out of the window, wondering if anyone would come for them. He wasn’t planning to stick around until someone did. Not like they needed any sleep first, and Zack planned to put as much distance as he could between them and this cursed town before they rested. With his enhancements he could probably keep going for two or three days straight – he wasn’t sure how much distance he could cover with Cloud at his side, but he never considered leaving him behind. _Not even an option_.

Where would they go? He walked around the room, hands in his pockets, when his fingertips brushed a slip of paper buried in the folds. Immediately, he knew what it was, but he took it out anyway, wanting just to stare at her handwriting, the words clear and vibrant on the page. _I want to spend more time with you._ And with that heartfelt memory… he realized… he knew where he would go.

“Cloud,” he said gently, “we’re going to go to Midgar. I… I just have to.” He knew it was a risk, but… would life be worth living without her? He glanced from Aerith’s note to Cloud, contemplating. _The two people left in this world who meant the most to me._

How could he protect both?

He wanted to leave after nightfall; in the meantime, he busied himself with trying to get Cloud to eat. He could spoon in small morsels, as the empty shell of Cloud went mindlessly thorough cursory motions of chewing and swallowing, dribbling slightly.

Preparations ceased, he tensing as he watched the sun disappear over the Nibel range to the west, night settling over this strangely reconstituted town. He slung Cloud’s arm over his sturdy shoulders as before, hugging him around the waist, dragging him with nerve-wracking slowness down the stairs and out the doors of the mansion. Following the trail down to the village, he found the square around the water tower deserted, barley a light on in the houses to indicate any sign of habitation. Zack didn’t dare find out who might be home, willing them to stay indoors, grateful for yet another small blessing as step by step they moved.

Forward. Only forward.

They would NEVER go back.

He’d die first.

*******

Trudging forward, always forward.

Zack had lost track of time and distance. They were lucky to make a couple miles a day. Cloud could barely stumble, growing no better, but at least he wasn’t getting worse. It filled Zack with rage at Shinra all over again, every day. _Cloud_ – he was just an innocent kid! He found himself far angrier for what had been done to Cloud than anything that had been done to himself.

He had to believe that somewhere, somehow, there was still the essence of Cloud, trapped somewhere in that in-between state. Somewhere to where Zack couldn’t travel, limited to the plane of the real world and what was right in front of him.

How long would it take Cloud to find a way out?

Over day after day, even while Cloud remained unchanged, Zack felt the mako in his OWN veins rebuilding him strong, at the accelerated rate he had come to expect. It was welcome to see, since he had two people to care for – he’d need every ounce of strength to get Cloud safely away.

He shouldered that responsibility, literally and figuratively, Cloud the embodiment of all his honor in the flesh. A representation of Angeal’s final lesson to him, dreams of Cloud’s recovery small but solid and real, keeping Zack going when on his own he might have wanted to give up.

Their journey was short hops, step by excruciating step until danger drew near, when Zack would temporarily abandon Cloud somewhere he deemed safe while he scouted ahead to clear the trail; weaving a backstitching route as he returned to his friend, to begin the whole arduous process all over again. Monsters were bad enough, manageable at least, dispatching them with a few strong swings of his sword; but he kept encountering Shinra’s army forces as well, clearly spread out to widen the search net. _For him_. A bitter pill that he was forced to face the entity he’d once idolized, having to butcher fellow men whose only crime was being as dumb as he had been in believing Shinra.

He’d been looking forward to returning back to Midgar, getting Cloud into SOLDIER, sponsoring him forward on his path, passing on Angeal’s wisdom and paying back his debt to his mentor. But now that happy dream faded in face of imminent need to survive. Desperate to fill up the time, Zack found himself talking to Cloud one-sided, telling stories, jokes, advice, anything, wondering if any of it was filtering into Cloud’s mind. Filling in his ideals and goals, what he had wanted to be, coming to Midgar as a SOLDIER hopeful, before those dreams were crushed into powder. Every day perhaps the last chance he might have to pass on what he learned the meaning of being a hero. And along the way, Zack started asking the same question of himself.

What was he? _A hero?_ Not at all. He was just a survivor. _Was that maybe the same thing?_ He certainly wasn’t doing any of the things he once thought of as heroic, running, hiding, barely one step ahead of death and holding Cloud right at that edge with him. What had made him ever THINK he could be a hero? Not if it meant what Shinra used for its standards.

Look at who his role models had been. Genesis, Sephiroth, even Angeal, dear as the man had been to him. None of them had ever had it right. Genesis had talked of the duel in LOVELESS, dedicating himself to finding the answer; Zack had never learned how it turned out.

Now, he wondered why there had been a duel at all. Gaining heroism in the embers of the war instead of looking for it in the comfort of a woman – he thought of Aerith and all the things she meant to him, peace and love and home and everything worth fighting for. What was SOLDIER strength anyway? To keep promises, to protect. Hell, in some ways _Tseng_ was more of a hero than any of them. Consistent. Loyal.

Then there was Cloud - the lesson incarnate of all he had been taught. Cloud in his desperate, needy state, who was finally teaching him what it meant to be a hero. That sometimes you did it for only one person. Cloud’s innocence didn’t deserve to be destroyed – to _die_ \- that would shatter him far more than seeing his mentor die – if there was one thing he achieved in his life, this would be it.

He looked over Cloud’s unaware form. Days drawing long, identical, sun glinting on Cloud’s pale hair, sky matching eyes that hung heavy, a bare slit revealing the tang of mako exposure. _Cloud, you always wanted to be a SOLDIER_ … but now he was a faded, poisoned replica, a waste of a body and soul that had been full of happiness and hope. If Zack didn’t do everything he could – how could he ever look at himself in a mirror? He’d be worse than any enemy, he’d ever fought, the lowest of the low. Even if leaving Cloud would better his chances, could he then say his life would even be worth keeping?

So Zack began another sunrise, hauling Cloud to unsteady feet, faltering excruciatingly forwards. SOLDIER strength a crutch for Cloud’s dead weight. Slogging through another day. Surviving.

*******

A darkened beach so different in its lonesomeness from another so long ago. The near-summer moon hung low and full, barely over the water’s surface, framing a silhouette she’d nearly given up hope of ever seeing again.

_Zack Fair._

Cissnei thought of Zack back in Costa del Sol, so eager and joyful, grilling her for ideas on how he should propose. Not knowing what was happening with Aerith at that very moment, a secret she couldn’t tell him still, a burden more than she could bring him to bear while he was still on the run. She considered the joyful future he’d hoped was waiting for him back home, cut short by an incident she was still sickened to have been part of.

She’d had an inkling – that and her own hibernating hope – when Tseng had given her this assignment, shrouded in technical terms and vague instructions. _Fugitive samples_. Ominous words for what she had seen that day in Nibelheim, angry and helpless.

“They are believed to be armed and dangerous,” Tseng had told her. “It’s going to be a very difficult assignment. It would be very easy to – “ here he paused significantly – “lose the targets.”

She hadn’t understood his cryptic wording at the time, but now, it was all becoming clear. The army would have already been mobilized to search for them, but Zack would know how to deal with that. Tseng had apparently had other motives than racing the grunts to make the capture.

It was the OTHER man – the other “ _fugitive sample”,_ she snorted with disgust – who really wrung her heart out. Last time, she’d seen Cloud, he’d been bright smiles, boyish charm, and that edge of burgeoning arrogance, and _now_ –

_Mako poisoning_ , Zack told her. So _that’s_ what they had done. Taken a promising young man and simply WASTED him, flooding him full of Mako until he was this – _this_ – She could only hope he’d come out of it with time, but the chances were slim. Most likely, he’d be a brain-damaged vegetable for the rest of his life, Zack dragging along his rag-doll body out of a dogged loyalty that Cissnei had always admired, even when she found it misplaced.

But even with that morbid prognosis – there had been so much raw _potential_ in Cloud. She’d seen that from the start. If he could recover – what might he be like then?

She didn’t need to ask to know that Zack was going to Aerith, as stupid as that might be. Should she possibly direct him to Tifa instead? Briefly, she weighed the options. Might be safer for the men – Tifa could probably help them, given her recent… _associations_. But that would put Tifa herself in more danger, and that was something Cissnei couldn’t bring herself to do to the only survivor of Nibelheim. Truthfully, she didn’t understand why Tifa, offered a chance at real freedom, would snatch the option of danger? Why would she tie herself to servitude when she could live out of Shinra’s sight forever?

She’d never seen the fury in Zack’s eyes that she found at the point of his sword, and she realized he had no fear for himself. Only for Cloud. Her eyes darting back and forth from the SOLDIER she’d considered a friend to the grunt she’d hoped to see rise. Her responsibilities to her job as a Turk warred with the heart she’d been forced to suppress so many times; but remembering back to Tseng’s loaded words finalized the decision she already knew she wanted to make.

She felt the weight fall from her shoulders when she spoke the understood lie into the phone – _targets lost._ Handing them the contraband set of keys, she watched Zack zoom away on the Shinra motorcycle, comatose friend headed into the sidecar.

She sent them her best wishes and silent affection. How she hoped that Zack would someday find himself reunited with Aerith, that they could would have a chance to let their love and happiness blossom the same way as Aerith’s flowers. Unlikely while Aerith was under Shinra surveillance; she found herself hoping dearly Tseng had some backup plan some way they could both escape to be together, forever.

_Zack, please get away safely…_

******

Kunsel had never truly given up.

He knew Shinra well, and he smelled a wererat. Had from the start, but the years dragged on, and he was left with a nagging sixth sense and absolutely nothing new to go on. Still, it just didn’t fit. What had they done with Zack? Killed in Action, had been the official word – he wouldn’t believe that, not without some real convincing explanation for WHAT, exactly, had taken out Zack and Sephiroth in the same day.

He’d taken advantage of his new position as First Class to probe just a little deeper, but to no avail at first. SOLDIER didn’t quite have the prestige it once did, but it was something to get him started. He learned to be clever, figuring out ways to intercept some of the information that ran by the Turks. The same information that let him know Aerith was alright; she had never called him, but he could remain reassured she was not in any trouble. Zack would appreciate that if – WHEN – he came back.

But this announcement was made to all. _Fugitive samples escaped._ SOLDIER had not been brought in yet, only the army, but Kunsel wondered if it was only a matter of time. His sources trickled more information to him, enough to convince Kunsel it had finally happened – Zack was alive and on the run.

The only thing that left him stumped - how could he help?

He tapped out the email on a secured frequency, wondering if it was actually going anywhere but the ether. Hesitant to transmit too much, he couched his message in vague questions, finishing with a few short words of encouragement. He clapped the phone shut, wondering and wishing.

A bare second later, the phone beeped it him, and he flipped it back open to find a beacon of hope.

_Message received._

*******

He blazed down the highway, relishing the sensation of movement and speed after long months of snail’s-pace going, eating up the miles that separated him from Midgar.

_Cosmo Canyon, 80 km_ , read the highway sign above. He considered turning to the exit – perhaps there they could find some safety, sanctuary. Not much love for Shinra there – Zack vaguely recalled that AVALANCHE had their start there, finding the roots of their mission among the study of planet life there – but under the circumstances, he figured they would be welcome. Maybe they’d even know of a way to help Cloud.

But sheer emotion pressed him forward, bypassing the delay in favor of getting to Midgar that much sooner. Still, even with proper transportation, the journey was not as fast as he might have hoped. Fearful of Shinra pursuers that he knew were out there, he only traveled near dusk and dawn, hiding to sleep in the night like a furtive animal, staying off the main path for most of the day. Taking backroads whenever possible, braving the highway full sped head when it was not.

Distracted by thoughts of his ultimate destination, fantasies of being welcomed by Aerith’s gentle arms, he’d barely paid attention to the route, only realizing when he was nearly on top of it. “Hey Cloud,” he shouted, excited and eager to share even if his friend wasn’t listening. “It’s my home! Gongaga!” Heedless, he let out a whoop to the open sky above. “I didn’t even know we’d come this far!”

He was conflicted. So long since he had seen his parents, and he missed them. Now that they were practically close enough to touch… but taking in his surroundings, surveying with a more strategic eye, he suddenly grew worried. Wreckage everywhere, steel tubes and panels.

_The Gongaga reactor_ , he realized. Had there been an accident? Certainly hadn’t happened before Nibelheim, or he would have known about it – this looked sudden, destructive. Could have happened on any single day since. Idly, he realized he’d heard no rumors of Nibelheim, either, in his months on the run. Didn’t mean much, though - Not like he’d been going out of his way to seek out news.

Suddenly, he was gripped by fear for his parents. _Were they okay?_ Were they even alive? Pangs of homesickness hit him. He’d wanted his first trip back home… to be when he brought Aerith with him. Wanting to introduce her, to be able to present her as his wife-to-be… Out of habit, he reached into his pocket, fingering the frayed paper that had driven him forward all this time.

He was about to run carelessly into the village, only realizing his mistake when out of nowhere, Cissnei appeared. _Turks_. Never really out of nowhere at all. She’d probably been poised and waiting for him.

He knew. She was here to stop him going in; ashamed, he realized he could have easily risked both his parents and Cloud. He couldn’t afford the luxury of letting down his guard. Had she been tracking him since he saw her last? What a dumb question – of course she was. Bike probably had a tracker all built in. But she seemed to be abetting his escape for whatever reason - simple friendship was what he would like to believe, or another he wasn’t privy to – either way, he was grateful.

“Cissnei,” he greeted her. “Guess I’m not really surprised to see you here. What’s going on?”

“Zack…” she began, uncertain. Long months since she had seen him last, only the barest of information reassuring her he was still alive and free. “Don’t you think you should be a little more circumspect? Didn’t you case the area before you came barging in?”

He hadn’t; he felt abashed, disappointed in himself. “I got overexcited,” he admitted.

Cissnei eyed him, compassionate. “You’re worried about your parents, I’m sure.”

“Not too hard to guess, is it?” laughed Zack, nervous.

“They’re alive and doing well.” She gave him a long, sad look. “I know you miss them, but… Zack… I mean, you gotta realize it... It’s just not possible.”

Zack knew. Really, he did, but somehow hearing Cissnei tell him… it made it all so much worse, realizing this was his fate, now. He swallowed, thinking of everything he had missed, Aerith springing to the front of his mind. Could they pick up where they left off? Maybe even start anew? He couldn’t know for certain, only hope.

“You’re right,” he said softly, reluctant. “Cissnei... is there any way… you guys could keep an eye on them? You know… make sure they’re okay and stuff?”

Cissnei nodded, her heart going out to Zack. _What was Tseng planning? Where did he think Zack could go?_ “I’ll see to it myself,” She told him. “But for now… There’s other targets in the area, so there’s already a Shinra presence looking for them. So you need to be extra careful right now. And on top of that… the targets might be looking for _you_.”

“Other… targets?” Zack questioned. “What would they want with ME?”

“Not you – the company you’re keeping.” She nodded back to the bike, and Cloud. “He’s got… Cells. From Sephiroth. You guys both do. That’s what they were doing in Nibelheim. We’ve been researching, and we don’t know everything, but we’ve been able to put together a few things. Your body is strong enough to hold them at bay. He’s being overtaken by them. It’s Genesis and Angeal... they are trying to get the cells to stop the degradation.”

“Angeal?” Zack asked, genuinely shocked. “But…” He couldn’t bear to end the question.

“We’re not sure,” Cissnei told him hurriedly. “I mean… there’s a resemblance. Maybe a clone.” Zack thought back to the strange griffon hybrid that had protected he and Aerith that day; could Angeal have copied his traits, just as Genesis did? Onto _who_?

His feelings were… mixed. Muddled. He didn’t know what this development meant, or how he should feel about it. But one thing was for certain: Now more than ever, he needed to protect Cloud.

_Answers_. He needed answers. Where should he go?

*******

_The flowers are selling so well…_   
  


Aerith absent-mindedly chewed the back of her pen. The flowers had indeed been a marked success, her primary target being the Sector Eight theater district above the plate. As much as she’d wanted to fill the slums first, there was little money below to be had for such luxuries; instead, the ones she spread underside were only the ones she gave away, more and more generously. The garden at her house had flourished, and as it grew, all kinds of different types appearing, ones she hadn’t even planted, as she whispered to them about her days and dreams.

Still, the money was to be had, topside, and that was lonely, the nights peddling them on her own only serving to remind her that Zack was supposed to be there with her. That, more than anything, symbolized to her that Zack was truly gone.

Why, then, did her heart not feel it?

_This is the final letter,_ she looped out the script across the page. _I don’t even know where to send these anymore…_ She knew full well that Tseng would take this one if she asked, the same way he had taken eighty-eight before with noncommittal promises. This time, she had something else in mind.

The strange creature with Angeal’s face continued to make its residence in the church, coming and going sometimes, but it would always return to its perch high above, a silent sentinel watching over her well-being. At least that’s what Aerith surmised; the thought gave her comfort.

Folding the envelope closed, she looked up to where it sat, wings curled around itself. She waved the scented pink envelope upwards. “Yoo-hoo!” she called, wondering if she should have given it a name; it just didn’t seem right to call it “Angeal”, but she hadn’t thought of anything better. “Come down a minute, well you?”

It cocked his head, seeming... pensive… for a moment; then, spreading its wings fully, it gracefully glided to the church floor.

“Hello there. You would know where to find Zack, wouldn’t you?” she asked. It leaned its neck, seeming to understand. “Please… if he’s out there anywhere in the world… can you get this to him?”

She waited a long moment; it seemed to be thinking. Finally, as if in acknowledgement, it leaned forward, taking her envelope in its jaws. Rising to full height, it flapped its generous wings, and rose up and out of the hole in the roof…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I feel strongly about this. I choose to believe that Zack and Cloud remember nothing and/or had nothing but Mako immersion happen to them in Hojo’s lab. Crisis Core canon seems to confirm this. I’ve seen a number of fairly graphic takes on the procedures that happened to them in the Shinra Mansion, and all I can think is, “That’s torture!”
> 
> Given that torture CAN and DOES happen in the real world, I feel it’s profoundly disrespectful to portray it in a story like this.
> 
> So yeah, Cloud and Zack got plunged into Mako, and Shinra just called it a day.


	23. August 0007-October 5, 0007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is being dedicated to cuilean, admin of the Ever After Discord server – for helping me actually get Crisis Core. Substantially helping out these and the past few chapters in the process.

Was this the end?

Across the continents, all the way to Banora, the place it had all began. Now – Lazard, breathing his last as an Angeal clone. Genesis whispering of a dream that became real in the end.

But as for Zack’s dream…

He looked at Cloud, Genesis’s words echoing. The gift of the goddess, the source of life to bring immortality, destruction and salvation all in one. _LOVELESS_. But Zack needed no poetry to tell him what gave life meaning. Cloud might not be the savior of the world, but his innocent hopes and dreams were the gift Zack himself wanted to give to the future. What DESERVED to become real.

For that dream… he’d keep on searching.

The creature Lazard had pointed out, curled off to the side. Could it really be that same being from the church, the strange thing bearing the resemblance of Angeal’s face? Protecting Cloud just as it had Aerith – like having his mentor there all over again, there by his side. It showed the marks of the fight, crumpled and damaged, and this time, Zack didn’t think this time it would be getting up again. Was its work here then done? He sent a silent thanks, for taking care of those he loved. The two left who had the truest meaning to him, Cloud and Aerith.

If IT was HERE, then who watched over HER?

He approached, hand reaching out, but his fingers stopped short of grazing luminescent wings – as before his eyes, it split apart into twinkling stars, green, turquoise, blinking out on the wind before him.

As the lights faded away, Zack noticed something left behind. _An envelope?_ A scent suddenly taking him back to the blush of new love. Tearing it open, eagerness beating out the desire to keep the precious packaging intact, his eyes raced over her delicate scrawl, and horror hit him as her words really sunk in.

“Four fucking YEARS?” he screamed to the sky. _Those bastards…_ they’d really kept him and Cloud that long?!?

Calm broke fully, as anger and hate he didn’t know he had inside seethed and roiled up to the surface. _Stealing four years of his life…_ Four years that could have been Aerith’s happiness, instead leaving her with a long string of unanswered letters. Four years of Cloud missing his chance to finish growing up.

He squared his shoulders as he glanced over to Cloud, carefully folding the letter and placing it in his pocket, against that battered piece of paper bearing her single wish.

_I’d like to spend more time with you._

He could still make it happen.

_Aerith, wait for me…_

One way or another, he would.

He hoisted himself on the bike, starting the motor, preparing to drive away. Cloud at his side, unresponsive as ever, but there was always hope… He wouldn’t give up hope.

“Don’t you give up either, buddy,” he said to the man at his side, determined. “You’re going to make it yet.”

*******

Cissnei waited by the helicopter, blades whipping the winds, rustling Tseng’s loosened hair. He paid it no mind, already _thinking, thinking_ to the next step, and the next.

Zack and Cloud were drawing ever closer to Midgar, and the Turks weren’t the only ones receiving intelligence. In his fervor, Zack was beginning to get carless, leaving a trail wide enough for anyone to follow.

Including Heidegger.

The army had the advantage of numbers. They’d been hunting for a long time, and the President was getting impatient. This time, they weren’t fucking around. Sending all they could, all for just the one SOLDIER.

Even so, Zack alone would stand a chance. He wasn’t First Class for nothing. But Tseng knew he wouldn’t abandon Cloud, no matter what, and he worried that would be Zack’s doom. Not that he had any desire to see Cloud returned to Hojo’s clutches, the boy the least deserving of what he’d been thrust into.

The timer that’d always been ticking in the back of his head was about to ring - and he wasn’t ready. Not that he could have been. But now, it was a neck-to-neck race, Turk smarts against army hordes. Tseng had no real master plan, winging it by negatives, trying to prevent things from happening, only reacting as circumstances demanded. Instead of trying to make something happen his way. Frustrating. Demoralizing.

But impossible odds were hardly a reason to give up.

They’d crossed into the Midgar wasteland, but Cissnei reported the signal had stopped. Were they on foot now? At least they’d be harder to find out there, with dust clouds and rock spires to conceal them. If only it was feasible for them to stay hiding out there, mobility on their side to avoid Shinra – but the land out there was dead and unforgiving. No food, no water. They’d be flushed out towards Midgar soon enough.

_I have to get to Zack first,_ thought Tseng. _My gift to her. All I can do now._ He’d figure out the rest later - if there was any way to get Aerith away for good. All he’d wanted for her, all these years. Freedom.

“Cissnei,” he cautioned. “I want them alive.” The hidden box of letters, waiting for delivery he’d waited this long so far, he’d keep them as long as was needed until they could be delivered safely to the right person.

Cissnei nodded, boarding, and the chopper whirred away. As Tseng returned to the building entrance, Kunsel melted into the shdows of the interior.

Slipping into a secured corner, he pulled out his phone. No response from Zack, just the faint light of hope that his messages were getting through.

He tapped out the information, looking furtively out the window to the staging area beyond. Battalions forming up, loading, all to take care of – they called it a SOLDIER legend. Something that might need all that manpower for. Something that had been evading the army’s grasp, and this time they meant business.

Kunsel thought he knew who that legend might be.

Months since he’d first heard of the escape from Nibelheim – the last place Zack had been seen alive. Had he really managed to avoid Shinra this long? If anyone could do it, it would be Zack Fair. But before that so long, four years – most of the lower ranks no longer knew who he was, a name that in their eyes belonged to a generation past.

_Zack, what the hell did you do to deserve this?_ he typed.

Could Shinra have somehow hidden Zack all that time? What had they DONE to him meanwhile? Kunsel had been nearly a decade with Shinra – ancient, in SOLDIER terms – and nothing surprised him about the company anymore.

_I don’t care if you’ve made an enemy of Shinra, I’ll always be waiting for you to come back._

Finally, he’d been rewarded with some direct information. _Aerith,_ he thought, waiting all this time. He hoped she was alright.

_Please come back alive, buddy. Promise me._

SEND.

*******

After miles on the road, naturally it was in the Midgar Wastelands that the bike gave up the ghost. The way he’d been pushing that thing hard the last couple months, Zack had known it was imminent, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Miles from any sign of life, a snapped chain with no hope of repair, and all they could do was wait.

Hours under the blazing sun, before a beat-up old truck pulled up to offer them a lift; Zack had already been planning to start walking at night, but it would take a week or so to cover the miles on foot at their pace. He was grateful for anything that would get him even an inch closer to his destination.

“It’s not catching,” he told the driver, by way of excusing Cloud. “But it needs materia to cure, and that’s why we were rushing to Midgar so fast.”

The driver nodded indifferently, motioning, and Zack hefted Cloud into the bed of the truck, following behind and landing with a _thump_. He put the vehicle in gear, and they were ambling the bumpy ride to their final destination.

Zack leaned back, the sun soaking his face. Cloud, as always, unresponsive. It was so frustrating. All these months of dragging him along, hoping every day that this might be the day he’d show signs of life and turn to him with his small, jovial grin, but… there was no change. _Maybe Aerith could help._ Wouldn’t all that Ancient stuff she was supposed to be have some way to fix Cloud? He’d been putting up a brave front, if only for himself, but dejected, he realized Aerith was truly his last hope.

In order to cope, he did what he had been doing this whole time. He talked. Never sure what Cloud could hear. Optimistically he described what they’d do once they got to Midgar. Could they stay at Aerith’s house? Elmyra had liked him enough once upon a time, but… _damn_. Four years. _Four goddess-damned shivafucking years._ Aerith’s mom might not be quite so inclined towards him after four years of leaving her daughter without any word – even if it wasn’t any fault of his own.

What did the Turks tell Aerith? DID they tell her anything? He’d be content even if they made up something, anything that would give her some comfort. _Shit_ , they could have said he’d run off with another woman, let her hate him and move on! – he’d have to clear things up, but better than NOTHING, leaving her hanging, he unable to bear the thought of her hurt.

Maybe the church. Yeah, that might work. He’d always headed there instinctively after trouble for the feeling of comfort it gave him – most of that was Aerith, but there was something about the place itself. Maybe the flowers themselves could do something for Cloud. She’d always said they had some strange power.

It was worth a shot.

“Don’t worry, buddy, I won’t leave you behind,” he promised the air around Cloud. “We’re friends, right?” Beyond friends, even. No words to describe what the two of them had been through, a bond past time and circumstance, not romance but no less meaningful for it, like all the greatest bonds of life.

_Friends forever. Life and beyond._

The BANG that he heard wasn’t just the truck’s axle against the road this time, and a flash of a second later, he heard the distinctive whir of a Shinra copter. _Shit. They’ve found us._ Without thinking, he grabbed Cloud and shouted at the driver to stop; the driver yanked up the emergency brake, screeching the truck to a halt, and Zack was off and running to the shelter of the rocks.

Over the rise, he could see them. Shinra troops coming. They’d been blocked from his view by a hill before; but now they were coming. Just like Kunsel’s email had said, waves upon waves, as far as the eye could see. Nowhere to turn around, nowhere to go, out in this exposed space.

_This is it,_ Zack thought, grim. _No more running. I’m done_.

Frantically, he looked around, seeking a sheltered space to hide his vulnerable companion. Spotting a likely site, he propped Cloud up gently. His face was so pale… Zack reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

_Wait here, buddy. It’s not over yet. I’ll protect you._

Hand reaching for the hilt of the Buster Sword, Zack, with a heavy heart, made his best choice.

Walking away, he didn’t see as Cloud broke through the fog, reaching out his hand…

*******

The broken cliff behind him, sun warming his back.

If he fell off the edge, what would he fall into? Death or a dream? Either way was an ending, but not one he would choose.

He surveyed the troops before him – more than he could ever hope to fight. And even if he did – there would be more right behind them. Shinra’s resources were infinite.

He’d survived against the odds long enough. Zack knew he would not be walking off the hill this day. Too late to be the hero he thought he’d wanted to be; time to be called accountable for sins committed in Shinra’s name.

But Cloud would survive. Cloud’s freedom he fought for. A man untainted, the one death of Sephiroth on his head, the one that deserved to die.

_The price of freedom sure was steep._

Standing alone against impossible odds, finally it all made sense. He didn’t need to be a hero; it had never truly been what he wanted. All he could do was save a friend, do what he knew to be right, protect someone who could not protect themselves. In that moment, for perhaps the first time, he actually FELT like a hero – no fame or glory, just a sensation of pride and honor that had escaped him for so long.

With hundreds of guns training their sights on him, it was with unexpected serenity that he raised the Buster Sword to his forehead as Angeal had done so many times, a charm to center himself and remember who he was. If nothing else, he would always hold on to that. Silently, he made peace with his destiny.

In the end, at the bottom of a well of turbulent emotion, he found it was enough.

With a shout, he charged.

Men fell all around him as Zack fought in battle-madness, nothing the injured crawling away, glad it wouldn’t be sheer mass murder on this soil. But far too many lay still and unmoving, paining Zack, knowing he did what he did only because they would kill him first. Cuts opened on his body, faster than mako could regenerate his skin, liquid warmth telling him that some now dripped blood, and still Zack fought on. Only trying to survive as long as he could, every minute he remained standing being another minute he bought for Cloud, another slender chance Cloud would miss Shinra’s notice.

Precious memories charged tension, his spirit driving him. Bullets flying, he dodged and guarded with super human speed and skill, he a weapon of Shinra now turned against them; but even so, his mako strength started to fade. Cuts became gashes, sweat dripped in his eyes, as hours drew on, but time was frozen for him. Distant in his body, he was barely aware he was falling, brought down to his knees as lungs strained, breaths full of effort in a body struggling to live.

It was almost an embarrassment when there last troopers approached in the downing sun, near-contemptuous as they pumped lead into his body. He pitched backwards against the dirt, grip not loosening on his sword, but no longer any strength to wield it. Vision went black, but still he felt the bullets pierce, cartridges emptied into the single spark of his strength to ensure he would never get up again. Unable to get yap as pain rushed into hole after hole, and he could only lie there thinking _this isn’t it, not yet, not yet…_

*******

Images. Voices. Familiar and comforting, somehow speaking safety into his mind. Vague sensations of his body operating its most basic functions, living on.

Breathing.

Motion, jerky, staggered. Slower, faster. All the same, forward, and his mind immanent, just along for the ride. Memories were nothing, just out of reach – his own or someone else’s, lost in the swirl that drowned out sensibility. Divisions of self vague and ghostly, whispered phantoms of ancient ego. Voices everywhere, seeking a passage. But only one cracked through.

_We’re friends, right?_

The voice was moving away, and he couldn’t let it go. Pulled, forward, reaching but finding only air. Safety was gone.

Terror filled him.

Wheels within, groaning to life, filling gaps in his vision. Rocks. Desert. _Where was this?_ He heard fighting, all around, and he felt fear. He hadn’t felt fear since…

_…he killed Sephiroth…_

That’s right. He had killed Sephiroth.

He. Cloud.

Cloud Strife.

The one thing he knew for sure.

_He was Cloud Strife…_

*******

Voices as if through water, _good riddance._ Not even bothering to finish the job, knowing he would be gone soon enough.

Zack knew they were right.

His mind, hazily traveling back, memories of a shortened life flickering to comfort him in last moments. Last thoughts of Angeal. Cloud.

_Aerith._ Always.

And distant still, beyond the blackness, the Lifestream ready to welcome him in.

The rain began falling, clearing the blood from his face.

*******

Muscles unused for so long, burned and cried, but an unfamiliar strength propelled him forward. Parched dirt now slushy mud.

Zack heard Cloud crawling through the mud, breathing hard, but after all this time- he was trying, he was trying.

Cloud moved towards the feeling of safety. One word. _Zack._ He heard his own voice speaking it, cracking into richness, the single word soft, nearly loving.

Cloud’s face came into Zack’s view, battered and frightened, but ALIVE – and somehow, that made it all worth it.

He wished he could breathe Cloud’s name back, but every word counted. “Embrace your dreams,” he half-whispered.

Cloud recalled Zack, in the full bloom of his strength, relaying the same words to a crowd of troops; now with last breaths, squeezing out to words for Cloud alone. “For the both of us…”

“Both… of us?” Cloud repeated.

Zack pulled Cloud’s head to his chest, thunking his face in the blood seeping from his wounds. “You’re gonna… live. The proof that I existed. You’ll… be… my… living legacy.”

Cloud echoed his words as if to stamp them in his own mind, scared to lose them as he watched Zack struggle.

Zack turned his head painfully right, where the rain had washed off the Busted Sword he still held. _It’s clean,_ he thought hysterically. The sword had been his dreams – dreams of his own with no more chances to come true. Time to pass the torch, drawing the line from Angeal to Cloud.

Aerith, in his mind. _I’ll be here._ Except that HE wouldn’t, though he’d gotten so close… _Cloud, you’ll live on. Don’t be a hero. Be a man. A lover and a father, all the things lost to me now._

_When you meet Aerith… I’m counting on you._

Zack lifted the sword partway, grunting with the effort. Cloud grasped the hilt, pulling it away in confusion and wonder.

Zack closed his eyes.

Cloud _screamed_ then, a cry of courage and fear, shouted into the valley and to Midgar beyond. He waited until the resonance faded as the rain was doing as well. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I won’t forget... Good night… _Zack_ …” the last word careful, as if he was trying it on for size.

From the beyond, with regret, Zack watched the innocence he’d wanted so badly to save, draining from Cloud’s face… forever.

Soul breaking from body, he asked the Lifestream itself…

*******

It never came back.

No sign of it since it had taken her envelope and flew away. She could only hope her letter had reached its destination. Had that been the creature’s final act?

It gave the church a loneliness she hadn’t felt there before, even the comfort of the flowers no longer enough. Together they mourned Zack’s absence. Yet even now, final letter or not, something in her wouldn’t let go.

She felt speckles on her back, and turning towards the ceiling, she saw. The sun’s rays from above splintered into rainbows, by rain trickling in through the cracks.

She and the flowers reached for it as one… and she knew the Planet wanted to tell her something. It was reclaiming one of its own. But she didn’t want to hear.

She wished so dearly she could pretend longer… just a little bit longer…

*******

The rain sputtered out, the sun broke the sky. Spongy mud, sloppy puddles dried up into cracked, parched earth once again.

Shinra’s forces long departed.

A lone figure, beneath their notice, struggling under the weight of a giant sword, Zack’s consciousness channeling through the weapon to watch Cloud’s progress. Unable to guide.

Hunger. Thirst. Distant needs, distant memories, a river of voices, chattering over the water, saying _forward,_ always forward.

He could barely remember himself.

Cloud Strife. His name.

Cloud Strife had killed Sephiroth.

Sephiroth was a SOLDIER.

Gaps of memory desperate to be filled, even as those souls who wanted to fill it frightened him. Thoughts and feelings not his own, stretching back to eternity.

Disjointed pieces coming together, stories of heroes. What it meant to be a SOLDIER> Concepts overlaid, structure laying over his soul, focused and fragmented by turns.

What would a SOLDIER do?

SOLDIER. He was SOLDIER.

A single word _tifa_ , a name made up of dreamstuff. Promises he had made.

_Promises and mako where what he was made of._

Every day he could lift his sword a little further; unable to see the way his expression hardened in tandem. The sword was a presence all its own, the only companion he needed.

Night fell. He slept and then up again, his body every day a little further from his weakened state… how? Where had he been? Finally able to lift and swing the sword. Where had he gotten the sword?

Given to him. When he became SOLDIER.

As he strengthened, skill came back as well, he remembering his training as SOLDIER.

Another pull, cold, separate. Itching its slow tug. _Come to me. Yes, closer still_. Ever stronger the closer he got to the city proper, eyes drawn to the tower crowning its surface.

_Soon, we will meet again_.

*******

The rain pelted down as she stepped out of the train, and she shivered, but not from cold. Rain was warm in Midgar, tinged from the flow of Mako in the air, caught by the drops and trickled down through channels in the plate above. It was a rare consideration on the part of Shinra, the rain providing some illusion of normalcy in a city that didn’t see the sky – one could almost say the inconvenience made things seem more normal.

It was nerves that rose the goosebumps on her arms. They were getting closer every day with their plans, and Tifa had fear to crush as well as doubts that were starting to creep in, the closer the chosen date came near.

_Don’t let those doubts eat you up. You know what you’re doing, and why. It has to be done…_

Tifa only wished she could find another way.

It had been her turn to meet the contact up on the Plate. No one ever WANTED to go – but fair was fair. They were all in this thing together – though she wondered if she might be in it deeper than most, if anyone outside ever got an inkling of what was in her basement. She’d be the first one thrown in the cells deep in the Shinra building, never to be heard from again – or wait, hadn’t someone said they weren’t deep down, but high up? She hoped she never got the chance to find out.

She was sure she wasn’t the only one of Barret’s group who let out a sigh of relief stepping off the train after going up to the Plate. It didn’t mean complete safety – they were all too far in for that hope – but she was out of the security system, and that much closer to home. Or what she had of one.

She’d made herself a life here, and it was a life she wanted to keep. Five years, it had been, the anniversary just passed. Nibelheim a distant, hurtful memory, one she tried to keep at bay by working himself into anger when she wanted to give into sadness. All her ties there gone, not the least of it a promise under a starry sky, a luxurious nostalgia that now seemed only – well, silly.

Trudging through the rain, she didn’t bother with a hopeless fight against wetness, letting the drops fall over her, most traveling down the long strands of her hair. Five years now, and still she hadn’t cut it, without having any real idea why.

In the dimmer-than-normal light, other shapes meandered into the distance, to the nooks and crannies of Sector 7. Not knowing if they were neighbors, Tifa ignored them as much as they ignored her. It was safer that way.

Coming up to the streetlamp, she saw a light-brown-haired man, in clothes that appeared to be military, passed out under the lamppost. _Ugh. Some trooper – probably drunk. Not in my bar – I would have cut him off waaayyy before this._ At least he wasn’t conscious enough to make the sort of comments troops often did when she passed. _Ignorant grunts. Think they’re hot shit being part of Shinra. Well, they’ll learn their lesson soon enough…_

She passed within a few yards of the unconscious man, but something tugged at her. The way he was crumpled… maybe he wasn’t so okay…

Her conscience wouldn’t let her leave him be. She inched carefully towards him, realizing as she drew close that his hair wasn’t brown at all, but blonde – it was a trick of the light and rain that darkened his rain-soaked head and clothes. She knelt down.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. No response. Hesitantly, she grabbed his hand, and tugged. All that happened was his head lolled slightly over to the side.

“Come on, buddy, I want to get home.” _But I can’t just walk away without making sure this guy is okay…_ She noticed a SOLDIER emblem on his buckle. _Those guys are supposed to be pretty much invincible. So what’s going on here?_ She grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him to a slightly upright position. She straddled his legs awkwardly, hoping this jerk wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he woke up about now.

She lifted his chin, and was to say something, when slowly he opened his eyes. Tifa gasped.

The blazing blue was the brightest light around, but it only served to highlight that much more, that these were eyes she could never forget.

_After all this time…_

_Could it really be…_

_CLOUD…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like an appropriate place to get this out of the way. I tried, I really tried, not to play Remake before finishing this story. Kept it in the packaging and everything. I gave in to temptation. Actually, this story was suppoed to be posted before Remake was even RELEASED, but that didn’t happen either.
> 
> I am pleased to report that Remake pretty much only ENHANCED the headcanons/storyline here, rather than contradicting them. Whew! So I’m using Remake details for flavoring, as it were. However, if Remake details would require substantially rewriting a scene (such as, AvALANCHE, or where Tifa lives), I’m sticking with what I originally had written.
> 
> Rest assured, NONE OF THE MAIN PLOTLINES WILL BE CHANGED.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Heaven Discord member tsubomi translated a comic that was a large part of inspiration for this chapter. So this dedication is for her!

She stared in disbelief. The trademark blond hair, the same spiked mess it had always been. Features still soft, boyish still, but etched into adult lines.

_And the eyes._ Brilliant blue as she remembered, but lacking the ocean-deepness that had always been in her memories. In the rainstorm’s dark, it was impossible to miss – the _glow_ -

She’d heard of this, but never seen it before – the mark of SOLDIER. So why, then, had she found him here like _this?!?_ She hadn’t suspected Shinra would be so careless with their own. Had they _done_ something to him?

If they had - she would add that to her list of crimes to avenge.

“Tifa…” he forced out, as if from a voice long in disuse. Even her name sounded raw on his tongue, harsh, not the soft way he had spoken it as a boy.

“Cloud,” she said the word aloud this time. _What did they do to you? What else_ could _have happened to you? What could hurt a SOLDIER?_

He looked around, shaking his head, that turquoise glow a glazed confusion. “Tifa…” he repeated, clearing his throat, the vibrations of her name warming it back into use. “….Where am I?”

“Sector 7 train station.” He looked blank at that, surprising her. His body was here, but the inside of his head seemed elsewhere… “In Midgar,” she added helpfully.

That seemed to ring a bell. “Midgar,” he said, eyes growing sharper, evidenced by the narrowed brightness. “When did you… never mind. You can tell me everything later. It’s been a while.”

_That it had been._ “Cloud… you don’t look well,” she fussed, raising her hand maternally to his forehead, but he gently brushed it away. He reached up instead to clutch his hand himself.

He coughed. “It’s been… uh… five years?”

_Seven years._ “A long time,” Tifa answered carefully. Whatever injury he’d sustained… it must be affecting his memories… “I didn’t expect to find you here,” she continued.

He grabbed her wrist. “I didn’t expect to see you here either, Tifa,” he answered. “Or anywhere else. After the reactor… I was so afraid you’d been killed… when I saw you lying on the floor like that…”

Alarm bells were screaming in her head. _You couldn’t have known… you, you weren’t there, Cloud! You never came back for me!_ “How bad was I?” she prompted, fishing for an answer he shouldn’t have. “You know, when Sephiroth cut me…”

“Bad.” He traced the line where her scar would have been, decently avoiding her cleavage and picking up again at the pristine skin of her tummy. Tifa shivered. “I didn’t think you were going to make it…” he repeated. “I hoped you got out. “He squinted, and seemed to see her clearly for the first time. “You’ve changed.””

_I had no choice. I did what I could to survive, to live, to get my revenge._ “A lot has changed,” she told him. “I own a bar here, now. I had to come somewhere. Nibelheim is…”

“…gone,” he finished. “How could I forget? The heat of the flames…” For a moment the aqua-green glow of his eyes faded to pale baby blue. “I heard my mom screaming, Tifa. _Dying._ I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that…”

Neither would Tifa… the image of her bloodied father, downed by the Masamune of Sephiroth, bleeding into the ground before the reactor, was burned into her own mind forever. But after that – a cluster of images, uncertain hazy – nothing certain until she woke up in Midgar. She’d dreamed she’d talked to Cloud his face somewhere lost a field of white… Could that have been the reality, and not the other way around?

_Or…_ a sick thought hit her… _what if this wasn’t really Cloud at all?_ An empty shell of mind washed out, replaced with different memories? Could Shinra even DO something like that?

_Never assume anything is too evil for Shinra,_ she reminded herself.

But nevertheless… he was her last link to Nibelheim. She couldn’t let him slip out of her grasp… couldn’t lose him until she figured it all out. _First things first, get him out of the rain._ “Come back with me, Cloud. We’ll get you cleaned up, maybe set you up with a drink. I still make some of those Nibelheim dishes we loved,” she encouraged. “Some hearty stew, cook up some eggs…” He’d need the protein, the density - he looked emaciated as well as sick.

It seemed to be the promise of food that got him going; he nodded, and made to stand up, but stumbled forward, sword scraping on the pavement.

Tifa caught him, grunting under the weight as she took in a familiar-seeming sword for the first time. _They must give this ridiculously huge thing to ALL their SOLDIERS,_ she thought sourly. No one else could wield a thing like this. She lifted it experimentally. Titanium, then, or mythirl. Not quite as heavy as it looked, but still far too heavy for she herself to lift. She figured she could at least DRAG both him and the weapon back some, but certainly couldn’t CARRY either; he’d have to support some of the weight on his own.

“Come on, let’s go,” she encouraged, attaching the sword to his harness and throwing one arm over her well-toned shoulders. He shuffled, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, as she guided him on the path back home.

*******

The walk wasn’t long, but the effort of the journey sent Cloud dabbling into unconsciousness once again. Gritting her teeth, she had no choice but to keep moving forward, breathing hard by the time she climbed the short four steps to the door of Seventh Heaven.

Inside waited her current version of family. Wedge, playing the role of Marlene’s “teddy bear” was across the street tonight, watching Barret’s daughter as per their rotation. Marlene always claimed Wedge read stories best. Biggs was watching the bar in her absence. He tended to attract a different sort of good-looking boys than she did; but the night’s business would be good either way. ( _A good businesswoman catered to her clientele, after all,_ she thought a bit smugly.) Jessie technically had the night off from their extracurricular activities, but appeared to be poring over some diagrams anyway. She claimed she couldn’t get enough of the stuff. And Barret…

Barret was being Barret.

“Yo, Tifa!” he greeted her as her head stuck in the doorway – only then noticing the man hanging off her. “Who the hell is that? Your new boyfriend? You know you don’t hafta get them drunk to go home with you, right?”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is snap your fingers,” Biggs wisecracked. Without lifting her head, Jessie snickered.

“Stop it, Barret! He’s a childhood friend of mine,” she began, _and he’s not well_ , she was about to add, but at that moment Cloud jolted into alertness, and the welcome drained from Barret’s face as he took in Cloud’s eyes.

“What the –“ Barret leapt to his feet, wielding his right arm in readiness, nearly knocking the table over. Jessie whipped her head around at the commotion, as pens and pencils rolled to the floor. “ _Tifa!_ He’s from Shinra! What are you thinking, bringing him back here?”

Cloud’s hand still rested on her shoulder, but he stood firm now, and there was no unfocus in his blazing eyes. “WAS with Shinra. Left them years ago, when they dicked my hometown over. Fuck ‘em. I’m a mercenary now. Use this sword for myself,” he finished, and Tifa saw him place his hand on the hilt, as if for comfort.

“Oh yeah? And which town is that, cocksucker?” Barret replied, equally braced and ready.

“You know, I’ve always wondered why ‘cocksucker’ is necessarily an insult,” Biggs mused. “I mean, couldn’t you try something more original, like ‘Shinra shit-cleaner’?”

“ _Stop!!”_ Tifa threw them ALL a warning glance, including Cloud, whose chest she pushed back against before he could lunge forward. “ _Barret_. Same town as mine, obviously, if I know him from when I was a kid.” Barret caught her eye, and nodded – he was the only one who so much as knew the NAME of her hometown - the others merely accepted her reticence. In the slums, one’s past was one’s own business. “Biggs, my glassware costs are already high. Another fight in the bar, and we’ll have to serve in those red Shinra-logo plastic cups.” Biggs scowled, knowing she was only half-joking. “And _Cloud_.” Turning to him, she softened as she realized he was weakening again. His hand had dropped, and she could feel his weight beginning to settle against her shoulders once more. “Um, Cloud, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Cloud.”

Barret didn’t fail to notice Tifa’s change in tone. _Oh geez, Tifa, don’t tell me_ … he groaned inside. _Couldn’t you have fallen for someone more appropriate, like a slum rat or a drug dealer, or a Turk?_ Tifa was normally the most level-headed person he knew, but he supposed a man could make even HER stupid. Her judgment was being clouded, so to speak, but this… uh…

He knew that look. It was the same look that had passed once between him and Myrna. And she had hardly been the most proper choice, so it wasn’t like he could really fault Tifa.

“Childhood friend, huh.” He didn’t think anyone would be convinced. People being what they were, there’d be rumors around the slums by morning…

“Barret,” she cautioned. _We can trust him_ , the unspoken subtext. “We don’t have anything to hide.” She left off the last critical word. _Yet_.

And they didn’t, not really. Some fever dreams, scratches on paper, a little dabbling in amateur espionage. Just a shared hatred for Shinra from untold events of secret pasts binding them together.

Tifa guided Cloud to a barstool, he gratefully sliding on, and prepared to take charge. It was _her_ bar, after all. “Biggs, if you’re done with setup, wanna go on break? Before you leave, would you bring us some of tonight’s special I made earlier?”

Biggs got the hint. So did Jessie. “I’ll keep you company,” she told him, and hurriedly stood, scraping her chair. Tifa noticed Jessie surreptitiously scoping out Cloud; had she been looking since they’d come in. Her eyes flickered conspiratorially to Tifa, trading her the best-friends look they had shared so many times before. _This one’s a real hottie,_ that look said.

Tifa wondered why that should bother her so much this time.

“Barret,” she turned to him. “Don’t you think you should be getting home to Marlene soon? Wedge might want to come back home _in an hour or so_.”

Barret got the hint. “Marlene probably won’t let him go without a few more stories,” he agreed, exiting the door, leaving her finally in silence.

Tifa breathed.

At long last, some time alone with Cloud. Maybe now she could get some answers. She waited until Biggs brought the bowl of stew, then patiently observed while Cloud dug in with the hunger of a wolf.

“When was the last time you _ate?_ ” she asked.

“Don’t know,” he mumbled between mouthfuls. “ ’S good, though.”

She certainly hoped so. It had been a recipe his mother made most famously; she wondered if he remembered. Just sheer luck of the draw that she’d decided to make it today.

As he reached the bottom of the bowl, she stepped behind the bar. “I’ll make you a drink,” she told him.

“What do you make here?” he asked.

“The best in Sector Seven.” Once, that might have sounded like bragging, but now, Tifa couuld say it with confidence – she’d gotten plenty of accolades from the neighborhood. Her reputation, and that of Seventh Heaven, rode on it. She had no idea if Cloud was much of a drinker nowadays, but she figured it would loosen up his shoulders and his tongue...

She pulled down a bottle of mid-range whiskey – there WAS no such thing as high-end in the slums – and went to work. Splash of preserved wine. Some of the spice infusion that made a great drink with wine all its own. Another dash of bitter infusion that someone else in Sector Seven made – the acrid taste mollified any imperfections of the base spirit, and the bitterness was oddly pleasant, in its own way.

She paused. She wanted to make something nice for Cloud – an orange would be perfect, but they were so expensive, she had to charge extra for a slice, if she could get them at all. On a hunch, she decided to add a couple drops of artificial-orange-flavored vitamin concentrate - sold ubiquitously by Shinra to make up for the lack of fresh produce. She figured Cloud could use the vitamins, anyway.

Cloud watched her work in fascination. _Pour, dash, stir, shake, strain_. Drop. Sliding the glass across to him smoothly. Economy of motion. No wasted movements.

_Tifa, a bartender_. Not so crazy, really; she’d talked a few times about doing some such thing in Nibelheim, a local’s pub or café, something that wouldn’t detract from the saloon but rather complement it. No, what was surprising was finding her doing it here in Midgar. He was glad she’d made it out safe, but – _Midgar?_ Why would she WANT to come here? After the reactor, he’d thought it would be the _last_ place she’d want to live.

He himself didn’t want to be here now. He wasn’t sure how he had got here, a vague sense of looking for – _something?_ Someone? _Not Tifa_ , he thought – even as confused as he was, he was certain he hadn’t expected to find HER here. With n full memories, nothing but disjointed flickers to call on, he was sort of reverse engineering his history, making educated guesses to fill in the blanks – he’d been a mercenary, he knew that for sure, a perfect choice for an ex-SOLDIER – so he must have been living… hell, he could have been anywhere. _Everywhere_.

“How do you like it?” she asked him.

He realized he’d managed to slurp up half the cocktail while he’d been lost in thought. The pleasant haze was beginning to muddle those thoughts just enough. “I like it,” he finally declared. “Wasn’t too sure about it, with all the stuff you put in, but – it all works together. Can’t even explain how.”

“I had to be inventive.” She made a sweeping motion to the shelves behind her. “This is what I have to work with. Take it or leave it. So I work really hard to make something good out of it. People have hard enough lives here – at least forgetting those lives can be a pleasant experience. That’s why people come here, for the great drinks.”

“Not the beautiful bartender?” Cloud joshed; and Tifa blushed prettily. Bit of a jackass move, but Cloud thought it might be worth teasing her a few more times to goad that response.

Tifa noticed Cloud’s eyes drooping. The food and the liquor were together doing their work. “Let’s get you up to bed,” she suggested. He only nodded, apparently too weary to resist as she led him up the stairs.

He only seemed slightly startled when he realized she was leading him to her room, the various feminine articles of clothing giving the secret away. “Biggs and Wedge have rooms in town, but sometimes they crash here. The spare room’s full of their stuff,” she told him. “They’ve known each other forever. Distant cousins, or something. Barret keeps an apartment with his daughter.” It was three days until her turn to take care of Marlene; she’d probably go to Barret’s house for her turn, even if it meant finding someone else to work the bar. For a while, anyway; she needed to know a little more about Cloud before she trusted him with the little girl. Just a precaution. Besides, it looked like she’d have a _big_ kid to take care of over here. “Jessie has a small room over there as well.” No need to mention that more nights than not, Jessie would simply crash out in the basement with the computers; she wasn’t even ready to tell Cloud there WAS a basement. She couldn’t risk her friends, or their plans, so easily.

“So that leaves my room,” she finally told him. It had a big, large pallet, taking up half the room, that they could decently make do with. She could only afford a tiny actual bed, so she went the more practical route instead.

Cloud took it all in, considering. “Far cry from our houses in Nibelheim, huh?”

Tifa remembered heavy wooden furniture, soft, thick blankets. “It’s a different kind of home, Cloud,” she told him. “That’s all that matters.”

He only shrugged. She didn’t ask more.

She went across the hall, borrowing some T-shirts she knew her roomers wouldn’t mind loaning out – Wedge’s mostly; they’d be way too big on Cloud, but Biggs’ would be too tight – and wordlessly handed them to Cloud. Before she could ask if he wanted some privacy, he’d stripped down to boxers, pulled one from the top of the pile, and within seconds, had pulled the blanket over him and fallen right to sleep.

Tifa changed more slowly, but before lying down on the side he’d left for her, she sat back cross-legged, examining him. It might just be her imagination, but already his body looked healthier, his skin had more color. His breathing was even and deep; she wondered if he’d been sleeping any more than he had been eating.

_Something happened to you, Cloud._ That, she was sure of. And something recent. Not just what he might or might not have seen when Nibelheim burned…

Now safe at home, she indulged herself, examining him at leisure. Thinking. _Seven years._ Seven years since their promise, and she’d thought that memory was slipping away… but now, it came back in force, and every emotion she’d had along with it. She lingered on his fine-featured face. She’d spent so long picturing him, never able to get the image clear in her head… but now, here he was, and she weighed him against her passing fantasies, considering.

_He’s beautiful,_ she realized in surprise. More so than she’d even expected. Her eyes followed the clean lines of his face and body, more thoroughly than she’d had a chance to at the station. A gentle, almost feminine softness of features remained, but the baby fat on his face had melted away, resulting in contours just sharpened enough for masculine appeal. Impulsively, she stroked his cheek down to his chin. The barest hint of fuzzy hair, not scratchy like true stubble; did he even have to shave? Altogether, a pleasing combination, the effect only magnified by the childlike blond of his hair and his natural pallor; and when he opened those eyes, the _blue_ …

His body, firm and strong. _How could it be otherwise?_ That monstrosity of a sword, now leaning safely in the corner, was statement enough to that. Just before leaving, he’d started to show some tone in his arms and legs; years of childhood scrambling over hills and through the woods finally giving him his adult shape. Looked like SOLDIER had done the rest. Shyly giving into urges she’d never have indulged if he’d been awake, she lingered on his naked arms, muscled just _enough_ to make her want to feel them around her; her eyes traveled over his shoulders, to the now-covered chest she’d caught only a glimpse of, even moving a touch further… _down_. Her experience with the male body was hardly extensive, but it was just _enough_ to start her wondering what his body might feel like… _close_.

Inevitably, feelings were triggered she’d tried so hard to suppress, deep-hidden sadness she could no longer restrain, burning in her heart. She’d half convinced herself after that night at the well that she’d fallen in love with him – but it was only the fantasy of him she’d had to go by, the projection of who he would be – all because of a promise made by two little more than children. How on earth had she thought that was enough for love?

Looking over him now… she was forced to acknowledge that she didn’t even KNOW him. His absence in her hour of need (yet he knew what happened – _how?_ – she was so lost) it had dented, but not shattered that girl’s foolish crush. What had really done it in was the years since, of struggling and making it on her own to the life she had now. How much he had driven her path, if only by his absence - first wanting to be his equal, then accepting she’d be going it alone.

What was a hero, now that she’d been forced to become her own?

The eyes were what hurt the most – no longer Claudia’s eyes, so full of softness, but something different, that she didn’t know how to read. She was scared to find out the truth, to risk shattering her illusions, or find herself endlessly comparing him to that dreamboy, finding the man lacking and trying to make him fit?

Could she really meet him once again, reconcile him with the boy of her past?

Questions she wasn’t going to find the answers to tonight. Not with him fast asleep. Not much left but to try to do the same…

*******

Cloud woke up, blinking, memory coming back slowly. At least there WAS a memory to latch onto. He’d been having some… _trouble_ … with that lately.

He could mostly remember the night before, starting with the train station, even if he’d been sort of out of it. He’d felt like he had the worst hangover of his life. Come to think of it, had even BEEN hung over before? He couldn’t remember that, either. But then he had a good strong drink, and felt _better_ this morning, so that couldn’t have been it.

An unfamiliar room. A name returned to him – Seventh Heaven. He turned on his other side, and there she was – _Tifa Lockhart_ , only a foot away, in all her morning glory. Sleeping calmly in bed beside him. _Did they_ – No, he realized quickly. He would have remembered such a thing. He was pretty sure of _that_.

Come to think of it, when was the last time that he – _Shit_. That couldn’t be. That long ago? He certainly hoped there was more to his sex life than _that,_ in those lost lengths of memories. In any case, too long without, he was sure.

Tifa had turned from a pretty girl into a woman far more beautiful than he dreamed. She’d only begun budding when he’d first left Nibelheim, and hadn’t blossomed much further when he returned… so where did all _this_ come from? Five years later, all curves and hair and legs… and in the middle, that perfectly toned tummy, a tiny waist just begging for him to hang on to while gazing at the rest. _Naked_. Her top had slipped to where one wrong breath would leave her nipple popping out; his half-hard dick turning into a full-fledged erection at the thought.

Not that he had any intention of USING that erection with her. He’d wait instead, taking that visual to jerk himself off in the bathroom as soon as he had the opportunity. This was TIFA – a friend. You didn’t treat a friend so coarsely.

Especially not a friend who had done you a really, really big favor.

She stirred, and slowly her eyes opened, to find him staring down at her. “Hi,” he told her awkwardly.

She smiled, the rising of a sun all his own. “Morning, Cloud,” she told him. “Sleep well?”

“Next to you, who wouldn’t?” She blushed even redder this time. He’d have to be careful. Those blushes were far too dangerously attractive…

“What’s for breakfast?” he asked, grasping for a change of subject.

“Same as everyday,” she told him. “Eggs and chips.”

Eggs were one of the more reliable forms of nutrition – they were cheap and available, chicken not so much. She’d heard that there was a rumor on the plate that the slum dwellers ate rats instead. Things weren’t quite so bad, but one had to be a little clever. She knew how to get meat that was still good quality, just not the choicest cuts, and take her cooking skills to tenderize and flavor them into something delicious. Her reputation was built on that, just as much as her drinks and company.

“I’ll make it,” Cloud suggested.

“Unless something has changed in the past few years… do you know HOW to cook?” she asked.

His head hung down. “Well, no,” he admitted.

“Can you make scrambled eggs?” she asked him.

“How do you make those?” he replied.

“You just, uh… scramble them.” She sighed. Looked like she had her work cut out for her. Maybe he could make toast or something. “I’ll show you. I suppose eggs Benedict will be out of your reach for a while.”

He nodded, and turned to stand. Before he could, she grabbed his wrist; he looked at her, inquiring. She took a deep breath. Might as well get this out of the way, right away. “Cloud… how much do you remember?”

For a moment, he looked far away. When he finally spoke, it was slowly, as if weighing every word for its truth. “Really… pretty much nothing, from Nibelheim until you found me last night,” he finally admitted. “I mean… There are things I’m pretty sure about. I remember in a sense what’s been going on for the past few years… but, you know, distant, like it happened to someone else. And even my memories before then… Very little after leaving to Midgar. I got into SOLDIER fast, but what I did then… Ditto right before I left. The further back I go in childhood, the clearer things get.” He chuckled. “Maybe if I reach hard enough, I’ll be able to remember being born or something like that. AT least I’ll have something to hold onto, then.”

What he DIDN’T say… _Feelings_. He could remember feelings, if not necessarily the reason behind them. He was sure he’d come to Midgar looking for… _something_. There were feelings about Nibelheim. The town. His house, his mom. And the warm response he’d had to Tifa brought back feelings attached to _her_ … even if he couldn’t quite find the memories themselves.

He was naturally drawn to her… but… They hadn’t been that close, really. Not as close as he had wanted. So what made her so eager to help him now?

Tifa sat and listened, glum. Whatever had happened, whatever had traumatized him so… possibly he HAD forgotten the promise they had made. The thought brought a soft-feathered sadness nestling its blanket over her. _Well_. She really wouldn’t get any more answers out of him today. Not the least her nagging doubts about Cloud himself - not just missing memories, but the ones that had were just plain _wrong_.

She knelt to get up herself. “Let’s go scramble some eggs then, shall we?”

*******

At first, Cloud got better. Fast. Being SOLDIER – and devouring her cooking– he gained back his missing weight in no time, honing his firm muscles, sharp jawline. Bringing a sparkle back to his eyes, but there was still an emptiness behind she couldn’t explain.

He began to practice. She saw him twirl around his giant sword with the ease of a feather – fascinating to watch from the window above. She loved to watch. Admiring him.

_Dreaming of him…_

He shared her room still, in a capacity no more nor less intimate than the first night she had brought him home. Still, rumors flew fast, fueled by the bored gossips of the slums and a populace fascinated by the stranger in their midst. Time, to time, she’d catch a curious face peeping in.

More than once, Tifa was stopped to ask if they were “just friends”. She suspected her laughing “no” was convincing few. Barret’s good natured teasing wasn’t helping. Cloud got the worst of the ribbing, the man’s inherent defensiveness not doing much to help, but though Barret was gentler with her, his protective self still dominated; and she found herself without a convincing answer, leaving him considering.

And then there came the bad days.

He’d be securely on the mend, and then these _episodes,_ headaches and seizures, leaving him shaking and semi-aware as he fell back into her care once more. He’d go from a picture of health, to a near-helpless invalid, and Tifa, pained to see it, could only start caring for him from the start once again.

He flinched in visible pain when she coaxed him to try and remember things; whether that pain was physical or emotional, she could not say. His head jerked, and he shivered; she was perennially worried he’d go into one of those strange dreamsick seizures again, leaving him hours disconnected from reality.

She’d brush his pale hair back from his forehead, he so painstakingly vulnerable. She wondering, powerless, what could be done, what _had_ been done. Grateful only that he’d fallen into her care. Slowly, the episodes got shorter, weaker. Less frequent –and still, she persisted. She’d nurse him as long as was needed, until she was sure he’d be okay.

But what after that?

She wondered if Cloud would stay. So far, he didn’t seem to have much of a plan either way. Last time, he had left her with a promise. She’d hoped his return was his way of keeping. But was he just going to leave her again? Walk out on her without even that slim thread of hope?

Or would it be better that way? If he was going to leave, maybe he should just LEAVE. Take that sword, make it a quick, clean cut. Let her move on free of his betrayal. She wished her heart wasn't telling her that it would never work that way.

Sometimes she would see the shades of the boy she remembered. He’d keep her company silently while she closed up the bar, his presence a comfort to her. Familiarity, reassurance, if perhaps not the warmth she could have hoped for.

Maybe he hadn’t protected her when she needed it. But maybe, just maybe, instead she could protect HIM.

*******

Barret worried.

Tifa thought herself a partner in his plans, but she was young, still so terribly young. That smile of hers was made for hearts and flowers, too young for blood and fear and regrets. That was for old timers such as him, those old enough to have earned their scars in the bitterness of life.

He saw her with Marlene, the unforgettable joy of both his girls together… wishing there was someone else who could make her feel that way. He’d hoped she’d find happiness, somewhere, somehow, get out of the slums to the life she deserved.

He saw her with Cloud, the hurt in her eyes as she tended him with care, the man still afflicted and weak. He’d peek in the door, see her gently sponging Cloud’s sweat-moistened brow, kneeling on the floor, Cloud in fitful sleep.

He’d been able to let go of some of his initial fear and anger. _Looked like Shinra had fucked that boy up good._ In which case, the guy couldn’t be all bad.

Tifa was in love with him. That was plain as day to him – had been from the start. He didn’t know how Cloud fit into her past, a part she rarely wished to talk about and never wanted to dwell on.

She needed forgiveness. She needed love. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his hopes, but he could see something in these two broken people might need each other, might let them find their way back to themselves.

Would Cloud really be the one who could take her away to the happiness she deserved?

Would he be the one to bring back the smile she still had deep inside?

*******

Cloud knew her eyes were on him. He always knew, a sixth sense he’d developed, some Tifa-radar that always let him know _where_ she was in proximity to him, and slowly, a sense of _how_ she was feeling as well. Finely attuned to the little details that made her so truly _her_.

He marveled at what she’d become in the years since; he was proud and pleased to see what she’d made of herself. She’d settled into this new life in the slums, so different from the wide-open spaces of their birthplace; but as days turned into weeks that he stayed with her, he realized that there was more to this new community than he’d first appreciated. In some ways, it was actually friendlier, more open, than the set-in-their-ways attitudes he remembered as a boy. Even more so when he’d realized she could _fight_ – that, he wouldn’t have expected from the Tifa Lockhart who had been the idol of Nibelheim.

_Was this really the Tifa he once knew?_ It made him nervous and apprehensive, in a way he found he rather liked. He looked forward to finding out more.

Maybe he’d stick around here a little longer after all…

*******

“AVALANCHE,” Barret said.

“That’s our name?” Biggs asked. “Where on the planet did you get THAT?”

Jessie pulled up the visuals on the computer. The downstairs liquor room was now a mess of screens and cables, the young woman having rigged up the pinball machine to cover the entrance somehow. Adding to the mystique of their secret hideout. ”We’re plagiarizing it, sort of. This was another group that’s been active for several years. Shinra caught up to them on October 5.”

_The same day she had found Cloud,_ Tifa realized. She wondered if there was a connection. But that wasn’t a riddle she could solve right now, nor should she, when they had other concerns – like Barret’s stepping up the program, taking on a name making their casual plans something more tangible and real.

“Isn’t that kind of like painting a target on our back?” she worried.

“It gives us continuity,” Barret said. “We picking up where they left off.”

“But we’re different, though,“ Jessie added. “They were out to destroy the planet. We’re out to save it.”

Tifa till fretted, not much satisfied with the answer. That was their stated objective, sure, but – what were they getting into, really? On paper, save the planet, sure, sounded great, but how exactly, did they expect to do THAT?

“The reactors,” Barret said when she voiced the last. “We’re going to take them out.”

“You’re kidding.” Tifa was disbelieving.

“It’s not as out there as you might think,” Jessie told her. “We got the plans straight from the original AVALANCHE. They were already thinking of doing something like this. All we have to do is follow their strategy. Build the bomb, disable the reactor. Move on to the next.”

Biggs placed a hand on Tifa’s shoulder. “You know how much those damn Plate citizens, all those fucking Shinra employees, depend on those reactors, and leave us with the scraps. We’re used to doing without down here. But Shinra will be maimed.”

“Still,” Barret pointed out. “gettin’ inside these reactors ain’t gonna be a piece of cake. Jessie’s working on deciphering the codes right now.”

“They’ve got all kinds of security,” Wedge said. “How are we going to get past that?”

While they discussed options, an idea began to form in Tifa’s head. _Cloud_ … she could trust him. _Was she sure about that?_ He’d been with SOLDIER, right? If they were actually going to do this, they’d need a little extra something they didn’t have yet…

*******

Cloud was out back again, running through the motions of swordplay. She knew his sharpened senses must have already detected her there, but she let herself stand for a while, just watching him. She quietly appreciated the clean sweep of his motions, the easy grace with which he stepped through the forms.

“Tifa,” he finally said; she tried to pretend to herself that the sound of him saying her name didn’t give her a thrill. “You needed something?”

“I was wondering…” Why was she so nervous about approaching a childhood friend? _Because you didn’t know him like you once did,_ came the thought behind that. _Because you don’t even know if it’s him at all,_ nagged another behind that.

“Are you planning to stay in Midgar long?“ She knew what she wanted him to say.

He DID stop then, letting the sword drop like nothing more than a stick, and _looked_ at her. Not precisely giving, but… not cold and indifferent, either. It was spinning her head in circles. “Maybe,” he told her. “”I go where the money is.”

“Is that all that matters to you?” she answered. Hurt, not irritated. She wanted so badly to have faith in him, even while he presented ego rather than the gentleness she remembered.

“What else is there?” he asked.

Well, if it was money he wanted, at least there was a way to get him to stay. “Well, in THAT case, I have a proposition for you…”

Cloud listened with interest. Save the planet, he didn’t much give a shit about it. Revenge on Shinra, that sounded a little more appealing. But above and beyond that…

What had Tifa gotten herself INVOLVED in here? Trapped, more like it, in something he feared would swallow her whole. Even while she’d made him the offer, he could sense her hesitation, her uncertainty at odds with her pleas for him to help, aid what sounded to him like a dangerous and possibly stupid plan. But if he took this job… maybe he’d have a chance to keep her safe.

Superficially, she seemed she’d changed so much from the girl he’d known; but it was an illusion. The core of her was still the same; her beautiful heart had not altered. If only he could say the same about himself…

A long time ago, he had made a promise, a promise under the stars… despite all he couldn’t recall, this particular memory flared with emotion so bright, he didn’t doubt it for a moment. Something like that would never escape. But… what if she’d forgotten it herself? He doubted it, but… he’d hesitated to bring it up, to remind her, to crush her hopes and tell her that he couldn’t keep that promise to her.

Because he was too far gone from the boy who had made it.

This way, though – maybe there was a way to keep at least _some_ of his word… He’d get through this mission, keep these losers from getting caught and leading Shinra back to HER. Maybe once this bit of bloodlust was sated, he could convince her to give up this foolish quest.

Shinra couldn’t be beaten. He didn’t need to be the one to tell her that. Had she not learned _anything_ from Nibelheim? They would do whatever they wanted – the best you could do was look out for yourself. Like he was doing.

_You mean hiding? You mean running away?_ taunted his hidden voice.

Maybe running WAS what he was doing. He’d thought he’d come to Midgar for a reason, but now he couldn’t for the life of him remember why… He’d be leaving, sooner, or later; he knew that for sure.

Maybe, just maybe, he could ask her to go with him…

*******

Tifa was the one who stayed back. Not to look suspicious, Barret said, but Cloud suspected it was more than that. He was glad for it, however it worked out – that ancient promise was foremost in his mind. If he could pay it back in little pieces, at least some of his guilt could be assauged.

The sword he carried was really more than enough, but he checked his arsenal nevertheless. _Lightning_. Always his favorite. He’d need it against whatever mechanical grunts were sent against him. _Ice_. Perhaps not as useful, but packing more rarely hurt. Really, all he needed was a Restore, and he’d be prepared for nearly anything.

“Ready?” Barret cocked an eyebrow.

“Was all along,” Cloud shot back.

The older man sneered slightly. “Still don’t trust ya,” he said.

“Don’t have to, “ Cloud replied. _I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for Tifa_.

*******

“Public Safety has this one under control,” Tseng told her.

Distraction was not in the Turk lexicon, but Cissnei felt it nevertheless, as her eyes glanced towards the brief. _Tifa’s not on this mission._ She found herself tremendously relieved by that.

Somehow, she’d managed to keep Tifa’s connections to Nibelheim secret from Tseng – the man who knew all secrets. She trusted Tseng, to the extent that she could trust anyone, nowadays, but the last survivor of Nibelheim –

Well. _Almost_ the last.

_Cloud Strife, SOLDIER First Class._ Ex-SOLDIER. No one around him to prove him wrong, but… Reports said he had the capabilities. _So here’s the consequence of Hojo’s experiments._ Only time would tell how far this would reach.

“So we’re out of this for now?” The blood would be on Heidegger’s hands this time.

Turks assassinated individuals. Public Security annihilated sectors.

She felt the cleanest she had in a long time.

Tseng gave her the barest of looks, no need for more. “Only for the moment. I suspect we’ll be involved in this soon enough.” He turned his head towards the wall where any normal office would have a window. “This is going to press Shinra’s hand. You know soon enough they’ll push to bring in the Ancient.”

Cissnei shivered unwittingly. Lives would be changed. _Aerith_. _Cloud. Tifa. What’s going to happen next?_


	25. December 9, 0007

_Running_.

That was all Cloud could think about, running faster, his Mako-sharpened ears pierced by the alarm blaring. He had to run.

He wanted to get away.

The reactor… it had been... _something_ … when he set the bomb. A flash, and something snapped his mind, a recollection that wouldn’t untangle, stinging. HURTING. So he ran.

_Train station_. He ran through Sector Eight, ignoring people shouting, car alarms blaring, chaos everywhere. In the distance, the flames that had shot to the sky when the reactor blew still were visible, burning bright into the midnight sky above. The ubiquitous Shinra news media surrounded him, the first of the news reports already leaking out, _a bombing at Reactor One, causalities, arson, terrorists suspected_.

To the right, a flash of pink, the color a bright contrast to the dull gray wear of others around. He turned to see a young woman tumbled to the ground, the person who bumped her rushing off without notice.

Cloud stopped running.

Aerith reached for the trampled flower, sadly fingering destroyed petals as she drew it to her chest. Why did beauty have to be so fragile? A simple bloom, so symbolic of all she had lost.

Tears threatened. Months selling about the plate, making her way through anonymous crowds but still every day a reminder that Zack was supposed to be there with her. A glimpse of the life lost to her, never to be whole again. She missed him so badly, some days more than others. This was one of the bad days, when his absence was so foremost in her mind, every step taking her back to him.

_He’d promised…_

She looked to the sky.

_Zack, where are you?_

A worn leather glove reached into her field of vision, offering to help her up; she took it, and was pulled gently to her feet. She lifted her eyes to her savior, and nearly gasped in surprise.

_Those eyes…_

A wash of familiar sensation, emotion and memory swirling in response to vibrant aquamarine. The glow of SOLDIER. So long since she had seen that – but even so, it was something _more_ that piqued her curiosity. Like she knew him.

Or was MEANT to know him.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, only now taking in the chaos around them as she emerged from her distracting thoughts.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” The voice, not the same. Nor the face, nor the height. But still, that resonance she couldn’t shake- could it really be as simple as a chance reminiscence? What did it all mean? Suddenly, she knew she HAD to meet him again.

“Look, you shouldn’t be selling flowers out here. It’s dangerous right now. Just… get out of here, okay?” He made to pull away, but she firmly tugged him back instead.

She reached into her basket, carefully selecting the prettiest flower of the bunch, feeling a tinge of regret as her fingertips brushed the broken bloom hidden within.

  
“Here. For you.” Reaching forward, she neatly tucked it into the buckle of his shoulder strap, giving it a little tug to ensure it would stay in place.

He looked down. , surprised. “What’s this supposed to be for?”

“Let’s just call it… a memento.” A sign, a guarantee, that they would meet again. A symbol of reunion – things that she held dear from her past and hoped to see again. She needed to find out more.

And alarm, and she knew she couldn’t linger any longer. “Until next time. Nice meeting you!” she said hurriedly, and scurried around a corner, leaving the stranger momentarily confused. Her last glimpse was him raising his sword as Shinra troops closed in.

_The sword._ As Aerith fled, it really hit her with a _thump_ , her heart suddenly pounding out of her chest. How had she not made the connection sooner? It struck an emptiness in her heart, right at the moment she’d chosen most fully to inhabit that hole.

But there was something even more than that, a duality within him, struggling for control. He was split, conflicted, a fissure she wanted to heal; wanted to protect this lost soul that didn’t even know it needed to be found. A direction he wasn’t ready to know about. A destiny for which he needed a guide. He didn’t… he couldn’t… understand how much his path had changed this day.

And beneath it all, the way her own heart responded, thrumming its way slowly back to life. Emotions she’d thought lost to her.

She was certain beyond words she would find him again.

_Follow the yellow flowers…_

*******

An hour or two later, flopped onto a seat on the train back to Sector 7, and Cloud found himself thinking of that strange girl. _What’s her deal, anyway?_ Something about her just… bothered him. An affinity of some sort that he couldn’t explain, that whistled in his soul when her fingertips brushed him as she secured the flower in its place. A kind of familiarity, of promises and protection.

He looked down where the flower still resided, undamaged. Somehow, it had come out of the fighting pristine, much better than he himself. He could use a drink. He was ready to have Tifa make him one.

Hell, he just wanted to see _Tifa_.

_12:23 am arrival,_ the speaker announced. So around midnight, then, possibly a little after. What had she been doing out so late, anyway? Possibly selling to the after-theater crowd. Loveless Avenue was always full after a show.

On a normal day, anyway.

_Well, that got shot to shit._ He couldn’t imagine she was selling many flowers that night. He wished he’d slipped her a twenty or something for that flower, something to make up for her loss.

There was plenty of loss this night.

That bomb… it had been much larger than he had expected. _The bomb you set,_ nagged a voice. _You pushed the button._ What was that to him? This was a war, there would be casualties. It wasn’t even HIS war. He was just here for the money.

_For a promise…_

He didn’t want to think about that. Not now.

The train dove below the plate, cutting off the lights from above, only for the lights from below to replace it a moment thereafter. This time of night., the fake lighting was the same, the only difference being that here it came from above as well. Cloud looked out the window, back up at the plate, running through the numbers he knew, giving his mind something to focus on, to calm himself. _Plate 300 meters up. Midgar four miles in diameter. Twelve and a half square mile area; miles that contained fifty thousand people spaced above, two hundred something thousand crammed below._ Thirty-thousand plus people with power knocked out, but not for long. Shinra was good. They’d have backup systems in place, restoring power to the afflicted sectors by the time he woke up in the morning.

It was a hopeless cause he’d tied himself to. Shinra was insurmountable. He should know… he’d once been one of them.

The barracks, rising through the ranks. The Mako treatments, the speed and strength he’d got from that. His memories were hazy, flickering still images only, but enough to know it had happened. As if his eyes and his sword we weren’t proof enough of that.

The memories _before_ were clearer, the further back they went. Before… _before_ … even in the depths of his mind, it was hard to say it. Before everything he’d once known was wiped off the face of the earth.

And there was only the one face left to remind him every day that it had existed.

She’d be up, he knew. Staying back this evening, watching the fort, or whatever one could call a bar-cum-terrorist hideout. And _home_ – well the place he lived. for the moment at least. Probably not for much longer. The itch to get away was still strong – but Tifa pulled him back in, at the same time as he wanted to run from her, run from the memories so wrapped up with her.

Across the aisle, a man lifted up his newspaper. The headline screamed. TERRORIST BOMBING AT REACTOR ONE. _Shinra moves quick._ It had been what, 9, 10 pm when they had set that bomb? 10:10 maybe when it tore the reactor into pieces? The thought hustled him off the train, the buzz of information following him into the shadows. _A billion gil worth of damage. First train 5:04am._ Once piece of information meant as little to him as the other.

_Innocent lives lost._ That was the last he heard before the noise of Sector 7 swallowed him whole.

He’d lagged behind. Barret was already waiting at the door to Seventh Heaven, yelling, cursing. It was old news. Cloud ignored him, heading inside, where the welcoming committee was waiting.

It was one small person bigger than he expected.

Tifa stepped from behind the bar, a small girl glued to her legs. Tifa looked down, warmth in her gaze that melted Cloud’s heart – warmth that even destruction and despair had not worn out of her. He wished he could feel the same.

“This is… Marlene,” Tifa began, at the same time as the girl – about four years old, Cloud guessed - ran to Barret. “Daddy!!” she screamed, and suddenly Barret’s façade dropped, melting into a pile of mushy goo as he grabbed the girl in his arms. “How’s my little girl?” he asked, swinging her around. She shrieked in delight.

_So this is Barret’s daughter, then._ He’d heard about her, but Barret had kept her away while they made their plans; he knew Tifa watched the girl sometimes, but this was the first night he’d seen her inside the bar. _No one else to babysit while we blew a reactor sky-high._ Nothing a little girl should be involved in, or anywhere near – it was her future that was being shaped, but a future she wouldn’t need to worry about for years yet.

Barret set her down, and Cloud took a closer look at her. _Not Barret’s real daughter then._ Tifa was completely believable as her mom – hell, it had been five years, she’d had TIME to bear a child of Marlene’s age – but she was obviously no part of Barret’s genes.

Not that it mattered. She had people who cared about her, a mother of sorts…

“A flower?” Tifa’s voice interrupted him, and he looked back at her. “For me? You shouldn’t have.” Awkward, a little forced, but wishful.

Cloud remembered the beautiful girl he had got it from; somehow, it felt wrong giving that same flower to Tifa. “Um, here,” he said, dropping it down, and thrusting it towards Marlene.

She shrunk back shyly, but the present drew her out; as she took it from Cloud’s hands, she squealed in joy, the happiness of the young , when everything is new. She smiled at Cloud, a bright smile full of joy and hope that spread to her eyes – and Cloud met her gaze back, it striking _something_ he couldn’t explain, a familiarity not unlike when he had met the young woman topside tonight. Eyes trusting, almost knowing – but really, she was too young to know anything yet, wasn’t she?

“That was very thoughtful of you.” Tifa’s tone indicated her approval, and she leaned over to stroke the little girl’s hair. “Marlene, aren’t you going to say thank you to Cloud?”

“Thank you to Cloud!” the girl repeated properly. He didn’t much care for children, but somehow he was touched. Perhaps he wasn’t _totally_ jaded. Not yet, anyway.

He rose, meeting Tifa’s smile, hers wide and open to his forced and thin. “Welcome home,” she told him. “Looks like everything went well? The news is already spreading.”

_If you want to call that kind of destruction “well”…_ “We did the job.” He harrumphed. “Barret and I fought together, then we fought with each other.”

_Nothing new there…_ Cloud was a fighter. Tifa remembered him starting fights with the other kids, nearly as far back as she could remember. _When had it started?_ She couldn’t tell, exactly. He’d always been sweet and shy around her, never a bad word to her, but it seemed anything could set him off with the others. And he WOULD fight, too – a scrappy little guy, fighting tooth and nail. Sometimes he got his ass handed to him.

Sometimes he won.

Either way, he always kept fighting.

_But what had happened to change him over the years,_ she wondered. At least those fights bore the brunt of passion. Now… he didn’t seem to care, one way or another. Indifferent. Almost lifeless, empty, sometimes, when she’d talk to him and it was as if he would go off into another place, someplace she couldn’t follow. Was it into those memories? The ones he couldn’t recall – the damaged ones, something that had happened after he left for Midgar.

Something that gave him memories of a burning Nibelheim he hadn’t seen. Yet again, she wondered what had happened to him while with Shinra. He’d got into SOLDIER, that was for certain – the burning eyes told her all she needed to know – but at what cost?

Behind him, the other AVALANCHE members were talking, laughing. Cloud didn’t much care to join them at the table, slumping down on a barstool. He moped silently while Tifa joshed with the others, staring off into space until the clatter of plates indicated they were getting up, going downstairs with Barret, leaving he and Tifa alone in the bar.

Tifa stepped behind the bar, watched waited, his hard-eyed stare never dropping. Sometimes... she could see a glimmer of the boy she remembered. She wished she could see it more often. She wanted him to throw his arms around her, draw her close, have him comfort her and tell her it would all be okay – but she kept her distance, unable to bridge that gap.

“How about something to drink, Cloud?” she asked. “You look like you could use it.”

“I could,” he affirmed. “Give me something hard. Better yet. Make it a double.”

Tifa nodded, pulling a bottle of her better whiskey off the shelf. The stuff she could get was cheap, but she made sure no bathtub swill ever graced her shelves. A splash of this, a few drops of that… a few swirls with ice, strain. Strong. Bitter. _Done_. She pushed the glass in front of him, and he took a large swig, nodding in satisfaction.

Thinking to join him, she grabbed a bottle of tequila. Splash of lime juice – the preserved artificial goop, all she could get in this place, this time – pinch of salt, and she had something that would go down relatively easy. She took a sip, feeling the pleasurable burn travel down her throat, burning away the ugly taste of the things AVALNACHE was doing.

_It’s for a greater good,_ she thought, wondering why she was trying to convince herself.

She was tempted to sit down next to him, but something about him made her not want to enter his bubble – she took the seat at the other end. _The farthest she could sit away from him, and still be at the bar._ She wished it could be otherwise. Those thoughts that wouldn’t leave her head needed some company.

She was glad to have Cloud back – really glad. Even as sullen and withdrawn as he was, there was something about just HAVING him here… _You came for me. You really did._ She’d nearly given up on him after Nibelheim, told herself to forget that silly promise she’d asked for, but it had a hold on her still.

_Do you remember our promise?_ She still hadn’t asked.. What if that was another of those memories he was missing?

She turned to look at him, but his expression was buried in his glass, he staring at it on the counter. She sipped her own, dulling the painful thoughts. _Are you still my hero, Cloud? Did you come here now to save me?_

She knew she needed saving… she just wasn’t sure from WHAT…


	26. December 10, 0007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The position of Remake Technical Advisor was handled by Final Heaven Discord Member Obsidian Elder Raine. Raine, you were wondering why I asked for your favorite OG scenes? This is why.

_Late nights made for late mornings. Even for a SOLDIER. And as it turned out, blowing up a reactor was tiring work. He slept far later than he was accustomed to – until eight, eight-thirty? Less than half a night’s sleep for anyone else but for him, more than enough._

_The other side of the pallet was empty. Pulling on clothes, he fumbled downstairs, trained alertness rushing back. Fully awake and ready to go by the time he got to the bottom, he found Tifa even more refreshed than he himself, peacefully doing prep work behind her bar._

“Morning!” she announced brightly, pleased to see him. Every morning, he’d hoped, half-hearted, that she’d ask him again how he’d slept, so he’d have the pleasure of inciting a response. No luck. She was onto him. He was actually rather disappointed. And embarrassed, that he’d, well, embarrassed her.

“What are you so cheerful about?” he mock-grumbled.

“We did well last night,” she said. Her words were upbeat, but her eyes didn’t bear the same enthusiasm. “I wasn’t sure we could really do it.”

“Course we did,” he replied. “Because I went along.” He’d gone on _her_ request… for _her_ sake… why did she seem so… _let down_ , now?

He was just about to ask her when she cleared her throat, awkwardly changing the subject. “That may be so… but we gotta keep it up while we’re on a roll. That’s why I’m going too this time.”

Cloud froze, shocked surprise competing with abject fear of Tifa in danger. Putting herself in danger, no less. He could hardly protect her from everything, but this – _this_ –

“No, you’re NOT!” he burst out, more vehemently than he’d intended.

Tifa tensed, straightened; he could have handled it if she’d gotten angry, but not… whatever he saw now. _Disappointment_. In him. Abashed, he wished he could take back his harsh tone, but she only _looked_ at him, holding the question in her eyes.

“And why?” she stubbornly pouted, now placing a hand on her hip for emphasis.

“Because…” _Because I’m not sure I can protect you._ Then again, was even Seventh Heaven safe? Probably not, as long as she was involved with this group.

_So eager to throw her life away?_ Cloud couldn’t allow it. But when she was just standing there, staring at him, vulnerable glare boring into him, both letting him know in no uncertain terms he wasn’t going to make the decision for her – at the same time, it was obvious she doubted her decision herself.

It was too much, her own mixed emotions, asking him for an answer he didn’t even have for himself. He crumbled under the intensity, overwhelmed, wanting ever more to do the only thing he could think of.

He ran.

“Because if you’re going, I’m not. Your need for me is done.” The threat came from his own long deepened fear - of something he couldn’t stand to see happen before him. He wheeled in the direction of the door, not sure where he planned to go, only knowing that he had to get OUT, OUT of what he was feeling and thinking, away from all the memories wrapped up in her...

_I failed you…_

In so many ways that was true.

At the last second, he remembered something, and stopped. “I’m only still here because I’m waiting for my pay.”

He only truly realized how cruel that sounded when shock and fear crossed her face; no slap or punch from her could have possibly hurt as much. She swallowed, shaken, that _hurt, hurt_ look across her face. “You’d really leave?” she asked, saddened and incredulous all in one. Cloud wished he could swallow back his words. “You’d just walk out that door and leave your childhood friend behind?”

_Never,_ he wanted to say. Never did he want to leave her alone in danger, never, in anything that might cause her pain. But it looked like her was screwed either way.

His shoulders slumped; he couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s better this way.” How had he dreamed he was anyone she could count on?  
  


“Why?” she asked with pained calm. ‘"Better than _what_? Did you forget you made a _promise_?”

The word hung between them, the memory she had been too scared to speak – but what if he left for good? What if this was her last chance to remind him?”

“You did forget,” she accused, taking a careful step forward. He hung his head. _Then again, could forgetting really be considered his fault?_ So many questions. “You asked me to come out to the well. It was a starry night – “

“- and I was beginning to get cold. I thought you weren’t coming.” He sighed, wanting so much to take her face in his hands, look her in the eyes and tell her everything that promise meant to him – but something stopped him. His own doubt in himself. “How could you even THINK I’d forget _that_? That’s not it, Tifa. I can’t keep the promise. I can’t be a hero.” _YOUR hero_.

_Yours_.

“Why?” she melted, questioning. _Cloud, don’t you understand there’s more than one way to be a hero?_ Didn’t he understand it wasn’t WHAT he promised her, a fantasy too juvenile and unrealistic to hold him to literal – but it was his _willingness_ to make the promise, some level of commitment, a tie to the future?

_Tifa…._ “I’m not the boy who made that promise.” Boyhood lost in the fire and ashes of Nibelheim, idealizations of what meant to be a hero burned out of innocence. _Sephiroth, once my friend_. And Tifa injured, he too late. “And I didn’t become the man that boy was supposed to become. I’m not a hero, not famous… Just a lone wolf mercenary, out for money and blood. A big stick and a thirst for vengeance – that’s all I have to offer.” Far less than she deserved. Truths he hadn’t wanted to reveal. How could he risk her safety on the maybe that was him?

“But you did the most important part. You got your dream – you made it into SOLDIER.” Firelit eyes fought with mako glinted proof of that. “There’s more than one way to be a hero, Cloud. You could still have your chance. Stay with us,” she pleaded.

_With me._

She wanted - _needed_ \- him near; he was safety, strength. It was just _that_ much easier moving forward, knowing he’d be there, her will to fight renewed with their reunion. But then again… He’d promised to save her, but she wondered if he didn’t need it himself oh so much more…

_A hero. Famous_. Infamous, maybe, if he followed down this path with her. But there were two sides to the promise; only one was to be her hero. The other was far more simple, just to save her when she was in trouble, and it was that part that most mattered. Only one way he could do it – by being there.

_Just one more mission._

Then he’d talk her out of this foolish nonsense before it got her killed.

“Okay,” he told her, even though it wasn’t, none of this was.

She smiled; it half-broke his heart, letting calm reign. He’d know she’d be by his side. Safe. She’d be there.

*******

The same train, only hours later but worlds apart. Cloud, ever conscious of Tifa’s presence, nearby, took in every detail of their surroundings with that much more finely honed attention. The train was nearly empty, but to the few passengers there, they might as well have been invisible. He was truly surprised how little attention they paid to a mismatched, highly armed trio in their midst. Did they have that much faith in Shinra’s security? Or maybe just that the three of them looked like business no one else would want to be involved in.

Cloud could hardly blame them.

Barret swaggered into the next car; Tifa scrunched closer to him, nerves apparent. She’d been subdued since they’d kicked into action, her reluctance to participate now showing its truth; he wished he’d pushed harder for her to stay back. He still had trouble wrapping his mind around her simply being INVOLVED in all of this – so kind at heart, no matter she might have convinced herself it was for some great moral imperative. What would it take to get her out of this before it was too late?

The ID scan passed over the train and she visibly shivered; he half-reached a hand to her shoulder in comfort. She gave him the barest of smiles in return; strained and forced.

_Smooth sailing_. The worst was over, in his opinion. Trapped in these cars, immobile, unable to do anything but wait when he’d much rather be out there fighting something, _anything_. This made his skin positively crawl.

The blare of sirens jolted him out of his complacency, realizing even before the announcement came on what had happened. Throwing himself in front of Tifa, he was poised and ready when drones came smashing through the windows, barely noticing Barret taking up his rear.

Walled off from the fighting by the others, Tifa wheeled, shoving frantic passengers _away_ , _away_ , slamming the carriage door behind them and hustling to join the men - the three rapidly dispatching the Shinra bugs, now without distractions gone. Still, the loudspeakers sounded lockdown, screaming _no way out,_ and she frantically considered the options, seeing none.

“We’ll have to jump!” Barret roared, blasting the door off its sockets; and Tifa’s stomach twisted. She smashed the button for the emergency brakes, squeals and sparks signifying success even as the three of them lurched forward. Regaining his feet, Barret leaped out of the jagged opening with a yell of defiance, disappearing somewhere into the blackened tunnel beyond.

Tifa hung partway out the missing door, tracks below still careening by far too fast for her liking. Cloud came behind her, placing one hand in the small of her back. She opened her mouth to tell him how afraid she was, but all he gave her in warning was a nod before his grip tightened around her –

\- she barely had time to realize she was airborne before she hit the ground, knocking air out of her lungs, flailing limbs whacking concrete over and over until momentum collapsed, and she realized the limbs were not all her own., finding herself in a somewhat… _suggestive_ … position with Cloud as her warm firm cushion against the cold concrete below.

Not…. _entirely_ … uncomfortable, actually.

His hand barely grazed her back, his tensed strength holding her locked in place, as reality caught up to her. His look, all concern. “You okay?” he asked gently, looking into her eyes with the same softness as his voice, and she could only nod back, surprised.

She might have wished to extend the moment, but now was not the time. They fumbled awkwardly apart, crouching en route to a stand, their eyes not wanting to break away.

“We’d better go,” he said; and she knew he was right.

And though she tried to get her focus back, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his fingers through her shirt still.

_What just happened here?_

******

_Hesitant_.

It had been one thing to have Barret staring him down, another to feel Tifa’s doe-trusting eyes upon him…

Especially considering what he was about to do.

He couldn’t have cared less about setting that first bomb at Reactor One. What the hell did he care about Shinra’s employees? Or Midgar's citizens? Tifa was the only person who mattered in this rotten city, and she was right there with him.

_Tifa…_

Distracting thoughts that had been brought up that moment in the tunnel, his taking control turning into… _something else_ entirely. Sensations swimming back unbidden, even as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

Timer set, he rose to go, when blinding stabs of pain racked his mind. The strange dissociation of vertigo and doubled images that had come over him in the first reactor… only magnified now by a hundred….

_Tifa, grabbing a sword, not his…_

…his mind flowed, following her forward…

\- and he was looking up at Barret’s and Tifa’s faces –

“Damn, man, get a hold of yourself! “ Barret was shaking him. “I’m not carrying your ass outta here!”

The ceiling swam; Tifa’s beautiful face, doubled before him. “What… happened?” he asked, disoriented.

“You set the bomb,” Tifa told him, ashen-faced. “Then you called my name and you just kind of… seized.” She swallowed, stalling. _I was so afraid it was one of those episodes like you were having when I first found you…_ “I was worried. Ne… Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. We gotta go, Cloud. Seconds are already gone.”

“Ok. I got this.” A nod, and his SOLDIER self was back. Guiding the other two back up level on level of corridors, feeling the air growing steadily cooler the further they got from the steaming mako core below. Every moment counted but focused, the minimal security that there was quickly dispatched on their urgent, efficient journey forward.

He was beginning to breathe just a touch easier as they drew closer to the exit, and along with it, nearer Tifa’s safety.

As if Shinra would ever let them off that simply.

Their exit, closed off, and he looked around, already seeking another avenue of escape as the timer below ticked steadily on; when before them, a hundred times larger than life, the image of President Shinra hovering over them.

_Imperious. Taunting_. Just the sort of thing they’d expect from that wind-filled sack of shit. The ending of his self-indulgent speech punctuated by the slamming of metal on metal, as the same gigantic robot they’d seen in storage below smashed onto the bridge, now brought fully to life, electronic brain ready and angry.

It filled walkway, splitting him off from Barret and Tifa; unable to squeeze past, Cloud could only trust Tifa’s safety to the other man. _She can take care of herself_ , he tried to remind himself, but it wasn’t helping; against something like _this_ – that was on him. He hoped Barret was pulling his weight, prayed Tifa’d get out of here... and fought on.

Echoing shouts the only reassurance the other front was holding steady, he slipped into an unthinking void, dancing from stance to stance. Metal crushed beneath his sword, uncaring, as easily through machine as through man, nothing but another obstacle to be overcome. Idly, he wondered how much time was left on the bomb but it was a distant thought, automatically prioritized by the fight that dragged on. Slowly, by infinitesimal steps, they wore the mech down, until the lightnings of shorted electric circuits heralded its end.

He twirled his heavy weapon, nonchalant, looking over the latest pile of metal scrap. Newest technology of Shinra’s, indeed.

“Cloud….” came Tifa’s concerned voice from behind the junk. Sparks sizzled enticingly.

He opened his mouth, but before a sound came out….

The roar was deafening – he _heard_ before he _felt_ , _felt_ before he _saw_ … grabbing for a bridge that was no longer there, barely catching a handhold on the decimated edge, all he could see was her frantic face as she bent forward to reach desperately across a gap far too wide.

“Hey, buddy,” Barret called, words he had to get out, just in case. “I, uh, was wrong aboutchya – “

“Cloud!” Tifa screamed now, and he could hear the joints above creaking, metallic shivers traveling down his arms as beams began to shear away.

“Take Tifa,” Cloud shouted back, dangling. “Get out of here, Take care of her for me, alright?”

“Well, duh,” Barret replied. “Would’ve done that anyway.” He laughed despite himself.

Tifa stretched to her furthest extent, trying cross the divide, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. “Please!” she shrieked, uselessly praying. “Please, Cloud, I can’t lose you… Not when I’ve only just found you again… please don’t die! You can’t die!” No time for tears, only panic. “I didn’t tell you…”

_Hey there, buddy._

A voice was speaking to him. Calming. Encouraging. Peace washed over Cloud; and he knew one thing for certain, because the voice told him it would be so.

“I know, Tifa,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’ll see each other again.” Cloud smiled then, a small, warm smile, not the cocky grin he had so recently been wearing. A genuine expression that filled her with ever more fear and regret.

Barret’s bulky arms pulled her back; she hadn’t realized she’d been fighting him until he slung her over his shoulder, barreling away from the gap with her in tow. She pounded both fists against his back in frustration, and over the din, she could _still_ hear herself yelling….

Cloud wanted to pull himself back up, back to her… but something stopped him.

_Don’t be afraid to fall._

The sword sang seductive words to him it seemed, a somehow familiar tune.

_Cloud, take care of her for me…_


	27. December 11, 0007 (AM)

**Hey there, buddy.**

_Who are you?_ The voice ignored him.

**Don’t worry, the flowers are very resilient.** A disembodied chuckle **. Believe me, I know.**

_Flowers? What are you talking about?_

**You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t be afraid to fall. You’ll be alright.**

The joint cracked open with a scraping whine, and he tried to send the thought forward to Tifa, but all he could leave her with was a meeting of eyes as he found himself grasping nothing but air…

*******

_A sea of white, a strange half-dreamed world with a sense of revisitation…_

_A nudge, words felt more than heard, bringing him up –_

**_…follow the yellow flowers…_ **

****

**_\- slowly, slowly, he was held, pushed, encouraged -_ **

_“Hellooooo?”_

A woman’s voice. _Mom? Tifa?_ what other women might worry for him?

He opened his eyes.

_Green, mako-green_ – no, not mako, not that sickly sweet chartreuse that flowed through the pipelines of Midgar’s underside. _That they pumped into SOLDIERs_ , Cloud thought, suddenly disgusted. This green – the green of plants, of life, of –

Flowers. He was lying on flowers.

A girl’s face, coming into view. Sweet, cherubic. _Beautiful_.

A voice, now receding as if from a dream, the words fading from his mind, but he felt certain somehow this was someone he was destined to meet. _Destined?_ Was there actually such a thing, or was it simply a way to assign meaning to coincidence?

He wanted to find out which.

But as her bright green eyes – the life-bringing green he’d first seen on awakening - stared down at him, something resonated with an uncharted territory of his soul, a poignant familiarity that made his heart skip a beat.

“You were selling flowers.” He sat upright, and with a rush, it all came back to him. _The bomb, the burning, the chaos…_

She smiled, and it lit her face even further. “You DO remember,” she exclaimed. “You know, you were the only one who stopped to help me. Topsiders rushing, pushing every day, and the reactor blowing making everything worse…” She paused, shivering. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Sirens. Alarms. Fires and people running everywhere. It was terrible to see – I just wanted to get out of there.”

Cloud felt a stab of guilt – that he was certain was going to be one of many.

“And then today… another explosion, above. I knew it had to be another reactor.”

_Reactor_. He’d been in reactor 5. _Barret_.

_Tifa…_

She had better have made it back safe.

So he must be in Sector 5. But didn’t know any more than that. “Where am I?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She put a hand to her mouth as if embarrassed, but her eyes sparkled with an indication she felt nothing of the sort. Teasing. “I forgot we were never introduced. I’m Aerith, and this is my church. Well, not really mine. It’s just an old church in the slums. But I sort of take care of it, and my flowers like to grow here, so…”

The slums. Falling… all this way. His eyes drifted upwards, she following his focus to the hole in the roof above.

“You fell through there,” she told him lightly. “Quite a surprise.”

“I can imagine.” He stared, perplexed. “I didn’t actually MAKE that hole, did I?”

“No, silly,” she laughed. “It was made… before. Really, this whole church is just very old. It has a kind of special power to it. Can’t you feel it?”

He… did. Kinda. A sort of peace he hadn’t sensed in a whole, only magnified when she put a hand on his head, expression of mirthful concern. “You okay?” she asked him, and suddenly, he felt a little more… _clear_. More so than he had felt in a while, anyway.

“Never been better,” he told her truthfully. He stood up, she watching with hands clasped behind her back, swaying flirtatiously. She musing, as he hopped easily to his feet, looking no worse for wear. As she would have expected.

“I always feel better here,” she told him. “More... connected.” She reached down and touched a flower petal affectionately.

He breathed in the air, fresh and clean in a way you didn’t usually find in Midgar. Then again, it wasn’t like you saw a lot of flowers either. He looked around, the atmosphere injecting his soul, bringing him into a sphere of relative peace.

He’d felt so empty and dry. _Hollow_. Rare moments when he had the luxury of actually FEELING something, anything. This was one of those moments; it drew him to her despite his reservations.

”And yoooouuuuu are?” she prompted.

“Cloud,” was his one-word answer. Terse, aloof, but not precisely unfriendly. The same senses that had been piqued when she first met him were now tingling with curiosity, doubled with the coincidence of his strange arrival. Her eyes flashed to the sword, a familiar sight that made her heart cry tears. Coincidences built up and she couldn’t dismiss them as aberration so easily. Things that were different, yet the same.

THAT day, she’d been just a simple surprised girl, but she was a very different person now. More jaded, wary. A slightly faded version of herself. She wasn’t afraid the way she once had been, forced to grow up and rely on herself. But there was a sense of safety she’d found in HIM that she couldn’t help but still crave.

Zack felt so deeply, but he wore his heart on his sleeve. Even in SOLDIER, Zack never lost himself, and that’s what she had thought made him so unsuited for the role.

Cloud was a SOLDIER too, but… He cared too, she could tell. But unlike Zack, his kindness was hidden so deeply down inside, it so strong and so much it might destroy him if he let it flow to the surface. He wanting, needing, but his connections disrupted even as he wished for it to be different – trying so hard to play the cool hero, a tough form of sadness. Shrouded, just as his name suggested. A faked manly confidence, a thin veneer over a boy – not quite charming but more – _Endearing_. That was it. A sort of unintended vulnerability that drew her in. Questions posed at their first meeting now open for discussion.

So what did it all mean?

She’d been so long numbed by hope, feeling stagnant even after the Planet had urged her to move on, she wondering why it had led her down the path of regrets in the first place. Should she have been so blindly trusting? Could she possibly have hear wrong?

Was new love a possibility, or had she already had enough to last a lifetime? Did a new love mean you forgot the old – as if she ever could?

How could she ever forget a love that made a child?

She was uncertain about letting anyone into that hole inside, a scar that would never close – but maybe it could be stitched up a little.

All she had to go on was a translated murmur from the planet, of its own need and affection for the man, and she wondered how much of its feelings were being confused with her own. Melded, even. Part of her simply wanted to _want_ him, making little sense – all she could see now was possibilities, unable to reach a conclusion from imperfect information. And even as she found herself drawn to the safety he exuded, it was strangely comingled with an awareness that he needed her to protect him just as much. She had answers she had that he needed, but she didn’t know the questions yet.

How to keep him near until she could figure it out? He’d been drawn back to reunited with her, however it had happened, but that wasn’t enough – she needed him to stay longer.

Fortunately, at that moment, a solution presented itself.

A faint creak, too soft for ordinary ears, but they turned to the door as one, Cloud instinctively casing the whole of the church. Here, her sanctuary – they always sought her out here, as if they somehow knew her strength was increased in this place. Today of all days, she’d been anticipating their coming. Trying once again to persuade her to come with them for her own safety.

Tseng did what he did for her supposed own good, but for Aerith there was only one answer. She would NEVER go back to Shinra, no matter how he tried to convince her.

But as Reno barged through the doors, a question occurred – was it for HER or for HIM they had come? She eyed Cloud from the rear, focusing on that giant, oh-so-familiar sword - a SOLDIER, one of their own gone rogue, could that be it?

“They’re after me,” she whispered behind Cloud. “Get me out of here.”

Military discipline kicked in, and he nodded assent, whisking that enormous sword before him like nothing, ready to defend. _Suits. Uniforms._ TURKS. He could deal with

Reno taunted, doubted, and Cloud flashed back with pride; all she could do was stay back as Cloud fought him away. The sound of blows racketed the church, she cringing every time the violence neared her precious gentle blooms, until finally –

A crumpled Reno, and with a start, Aerith realized Cloud was ready to land the killing blow, but Aerith could only scream to stop him, fearful her ruse had spread too far. Grabbing his arm, she half-led, half dragged him into the higher levels of the church, their pursuers calling to them below as they scrambled upwards to the rafters.

From down below, she could hear the remnants of their conversation as they left. Cloud, a wild card that they may or may not have expected, leaving them unsure what to do with her now. She mused how to steer Cloud onto the path he wanted; she wasn’t much accustomed to being a leader. But perhaps now it was her turn to be the guide.

*******

Scrambling out of the hole in the church roof, onto the tops of the abandoned slum houses nearby: pursuit seemed to have given up on them. He’d worried about Aerith following his route at first, but so far, she was keeping up admirably. No spoiled princess; despite the feminine looks that might tempt some to discount her, he watched her wield that staff of hers with a fair amount of skill, and he wondered when she’d had a chance to learn.

But even more than that, there were things he was dying to ask her. About the Turks, first of all. Why did they seem to know her, and what might they want? It led him even further down a line of thought, about who, even _what,_ she might be.

Most of all, what was it about her that felt so… familiar? _Right_ , somehow? A match that… _Romantic?_ His body stirred just a tad, a physical response to a pretty girl that at age twenty-one, he could hardly be expected to fully suppress; but… eh, that wasn’t it either. So what the fuck was it?

He kept trying to narrow down the words, to describe the weird amalgamation of feelings she brought up in him, but not like words had ever been his strong suit. It was a strange mishmash of mind and body and confusion; for the moment he was just trying to ignore it. And failing.

He realized he was only running his mind in circles. Not much to do but wait and find out. He marched on, lost in fruitless twists of thought, only realizing how far he’d surged ahead when her voice called behind him.

“Wait, Cloud!” she called. “I can’t keep up anymore! Not all of us were in SOLDIER like you!”

Cloud heeled in startled shock. “SOLDIER? How did you know?”

  
She hopped across the gap to meet him, wobbling slightly as she landed, still breathing hard as she caught up. “The eyes… she trailed off. “I recognized them when we first met. I know what they mean.” She paused, waiting to see if he’d ask more; he didn’t. “That’s why I was hoping you’d get me out of there safe. You know, like a bodyguard or something? That’s what SOLDIERs are supposed to do, right? Protect.”

It was an odd question; Cloud thought at first the answer was obvious. SOLDIERs were meant to fight. But was it really? _Tifa. A promise._ He didn’t keep that close to his heart only to destroy; there was something else he wanted and hoped to be, but he still wasn’t sure yet WHAT. _Who am I?_

“What’s it worth to you?” he asked.

She returned his deadpan glare, with a heightened twinkle in her eyes; he suddenly found himself uncomfortable, discomfited. “Well… how about… one date?” she asked slyly. She looked around. “You know, when it’s a little more convenient.”

Cloud just hmmphed, covering up his discomfort, unsure how to respond, in the end ignoring the question as if it would go away.

But she seized that strange moment and paused, sweeping in the view around him, forcing him to stop for the moment and look with her. Taking it all at once, it struck him somehow – had he become so immune to his surroundings that he could no longer see what she saw?

“It’s beautiful, in its own way,” she told him. “Some people hate it, but I don’t. How could I?”

Cloud was surprised. “What do you mean?”

“It’s about… being where you are, I guess.” She breathed deeply. “There’s just… so _much_ , around, all the time. Life, people. Hopes and dreams rushing together, life bursting out everywhere no matter what tries to stop it, combining into something exponentially greater. Destinies in bloom. If you’ll only allow it in.” She swept an arm to indicate the view. “The world just… overwhelms me sometimes. I’m scared to leave the slums. If I can feel this deeply here… what if it’s _too_ much?”

And for the briefest of moments, Cloud understood. Looking towards the horizon, it stretching forever... His mind’s eye opened up…

**Something about Aerith, about how it all fit together. That made him want to be… something. A hero? Was that it? She seemed the sort a man might want to be a hero for…**

\- and then just as suddenly, it slammed shut, leaving him with his own hollow once again. “Let’s just get you home.”

_Fuck destiny, anyway._

For the moment, he had a job to do, and discipline overcame doubt to keep him focused on his goal. The same parts of Aerith that confused and disturbed him also left him inspired, in a sense – a need to protect that had been laying dormant.

One thing was certain. For whatever reason, Shinra was after her, and protecting her was just one more way to stick it to them. He was almost disappointed when they dropped off the rooftops to no further signs of Shinra trouble, only a few disposable monsters before they crossed the border into Sector 5.

He’d never really considered before how different the sectors were from each other. It immediately struck him how visibly different Sector Five was - if he’d ever been underplate before, he sure couldn’t remember, not that he could much remember topside either, except to know he’d been there – so for all intents and purposes, his only exposure to the slums had been the past few weeks in Sector Seven. He noticed the difference straight off – Sector Seven was largely a young-adult crowd, typical of Tifa’s clientele and Tifa herself. It made Cloud especially grateful she’d been able to land someplace where she could create a life, a new sort of home for the woman she was now.

In contrast, Sector Five at first impression appeared to lend itself to families. Or children, at least - on second note, he noticed the majority seemed to be running around without parental supervision.

But the most striking difference - one he didn’t fully ingest at first - was the patches of green encroaching on the town’s innards, increasing as they got further within its bounds, the slums more closely resembling a quaint homey town than the upper plate’s scrap. It made him a touch… _homesick?_ He hadn’t thought to find himself so – not that there was any sort of home to go back to. Nostalgic, maybe. Perhaps that was it, regret for something gone without true desire to return. Leave and never look back, that’s what he had been telling himself. It had worked for him so far.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but think, things came back to _you_.

Citizens had begun greeting Aerith since the train station, but as they got into the heart of the sector, it was obvious she was not only well-known but well-liked. Initially tempted to dismiss her as frivolous, he grudgingly admitted there was a quirky charm to her as well. This, despite her ragged insistence to ignore his shitty attitude. The sunny retention of greenery clinging to the town’s ground and walls seemed a reflection of her demeanor, as if the flowers were some sort of personal tribute.

He soon realized they really were; she was their ultimate source. “We help each other in the slums,” she’d explained; after she’d promised an armful of flowers to yet another woman, and he’d wondered how she’d made any money at all. “It’s the only way to survive. Besides,” she smiled mysteriously, “it’s no real loss to me. You’ll see soon enough.”

He realized the truth of that when they rounded a corner of the winding path they were on, and he suddenly found himself speechless.

He’d grown up around trees and hills, but the banquet of color they came upon simply overwhelmed him. Flowers everywhere the eyes could see, and it felt like homecoming in a way, as if the flowers only existed to welcome him.

Walking towards the house he presumed was hers, his eyes followed the rock walls against which it abutted, greenery climbing up to a waterfall, of all things, cascading into a vibrant blue pool below. Normally, in Midgar, the closest you’d see to this would be Mako-byproduct sewage spilling out of pipes, creating something that might have been serene and beautiful if you didn’t know what it really was. This, however, was the real thing, flowers bludgeoning their way forth fed by light and liquid nourishment. The sun seemed brighter here as well, bent through the cracks in the plated but refracted just the right way to focus on the clearing, making him forget about the steel slab above.

Opening the door, Aerith jovially announced their arrival as an older woman turned from the stove to greet them. It was the kitchen itself, surprisingly, that Cloud noticed first, so much larger than Tifa’s small setup at Seventh Heaven. It reminded him painfully of his home, he able to picture so clearly his mother leaning over the stove… that last meal at his home, going home alone, so proud to return being able to introduce himself as SOLDIER –

_\- a shot of pain, his head seized –_

He shook it off. _What was that? Why again? Why now?_

“This is my mother, Elmyra,” Aerith was saying; _she must take after her father_ , Cloud thought, seeing little resemblance in their features. Focusing on the older woman, he noticed Elmyra was staring at him with concerned disapproval, even as Aerith gaily explained how he’d accompanied her home.

_Those eyes…_ Her daughter looked at this young man with glowing delight, but for Elmyra, Mako eyes only meant bitter memories.

“Why would they suddenly be after you? The Turks usually look out for you, don’t they? Rude stopped in here earlier today. Stayed for coffee and everything.” She gestured to two empty cups by the sink.

Aerith looked strangely abashed, looking from her mother to Cloud and back again. And to a mother’s eyes, that clinched it. _Oh my…_ this was going to be a bigger problem than she thought. She couldn’t’ blame Aerith for wanting starry-eyed romance to come again – she was still so young - but she’d already led a woman’s life, and should know wishes didn’t make themselves come true. Eyeing the young man up and down, Elmyra knew she’d never be able to see past what he was.

Because it wasn’t something he could ever leave behind.

Thankfully, Cloud didn’t seem to have any particular eyes for her daughter; Aerith would do her best to change it, though, if she wished it so.

“Look, I need to get back to Sector 7. I’ve got business over there. Urgent.” Cloud squirmed slightly where he stood, wondering about Tifa… when he’d left her so literally hanging. _Was she safe? Was she worried?_ He cursed his lack of a cell phone, realizing at the same time he’d never bothered to learn Seventh Heaven’s number, now cursing that lack of a line back to _her_.

“Oh, I’ll take you there – “ Aerith replied, already impulsively moving towards the door, but Elmyra interrupted. “Aerith. Dinner’s almost ready and it’ll be getting dark after. You can’t go all that way and back tonight,“ she half-scolded, and the younger woman reluctantly nodded. “Cloud. Please be our guest for the night. It’s the least we can do in return. Aerith, will you please make up the spare room?”

While Aerith, full of energy , rushed upstairs, Cloud waited below, left in the kitchen with a woman who appeared to have no love lost for him. “SOLDIER, right?” she asked; Cloud gave a curt, slight, and as it turned out, completely superfluous, nod. “I already recognized it. Neither of you needed to tell me that.” She sighed in resignation; Cloud wondered, standing tense and impatient.

_Scratch that,_ Cloud thought. _She’s hated me on sight._

Elmyra thought back to Zack, all smiles and love, ad look where that had got Aerith in the end. Aerith might rationalize things as she chose, but Elmyra was certain Shinra was behind his disappearance somehow, adding to the resentment against the company that had begun with the death of her husband. No matter what good intentions Cloud had, he could never get out of Shinra’s shadow; once in, you were owned.

“I can’t condone this,” Elmyra said; Cloud was uncomfortably aware of the _this_ that she was suggesting. “You’ve already made your choice. A normal life for power. You can’t take that choice back and make a different promise instead. What can you bring to a woman out of that?”

He didn’t deny it, and she continued. “Aerith has been through enough. You won’t bring anything good to her life. Please… I have to ask. Will you just leave tonight? No goodbyes. Just walk out of her life and let her be. Trust me, it’s better this way.

“You got it.” He hadn’t made her any promises, after all. Was that entirely true? Cloud kept his expression placid, but suddenly his heart was in his throat. The sword seemed to weigh on his shoulders, as if it wanted to push him forward towards Aerith instead. He’d made to her, perhaps not a full promise, but at least a loose commitment. An obligation to protect. He wasn’t sure how, but it was there - he’d only just met her, why did the thought of walking out of her life bother him so much?

Problems for later. For the moment he was a guest, and he’d behave as such. Exploring the house at Elmyra’s imitation, he made his way to the top floor, greeted at the top by a sweeping panoramic, the flower garden all the more impressive when viewed in full. At his side on the balcony, small pots of vegetables – some of which were likely to be dinner tonight – tomatoes, carrots, and other ingredients so rare in the slums that Tifa would have practically killed to get her hands on them. Seedlings, also, miniatures of the plants below, waiting there to join their fellows in the tapestry before him.

Despite Elmyra’s worry, the sun was only just dipping below the plate. In the distance he could see Aerith, her dark pink jacket stark against the patch of yellow that surrounded her.

**_Follow the yellow flowers._** He didn’t know _what_ voice whispered to him now, or if the thought was only his own.

He followed.

He crept down through the garden, Aerith seemingly engrossed; he watched her, confused and fascinated, as she spoke to the flowers, picking up enough words to realize she was talking to them as if they were her friends. Maybe they were.

“What are they saying?” he asked; and as she looked up, he realized she’d known he was there all along.

“It’s… difficult to explain,” she said. “There’s... something we need to learn from them. But we’re not ready to hear.” She looked sad. “I know, it sounds silly. I’m sure you don’t believe me.”

“No, I do,” he answered, surprising even himself. “I really do.”

The breeze was nearly still, but as they stood there, absorbing the quiet, he could almost hear a distant whisper, words in a language he didn’t need to know to understand.

And he felt for just the briefest of moments he could hear them too.

*******

Tifa hated to think of herself as soft, but perhaps she was after all.

Worry over Cloud still gnawed in the back of her head, but it was now a dull throbbing knob, worn down by the realization that there was little she could do at the moment. Frosted by the guilt if having put some serious bruises on Barret; despite his size, the man still winced visibly even after the administration of a potion, Cloud having departed with their only Cure.

Besides, they had bigger things to worry about.

The Shinra hoodlum spit out a tooth. “Bastard,” he cursed at Barret.

Tifa couldn’t fully get behind this approach, but she’d had to admit Barret was right – they really DIDN’T have much of a choice. Wallowing over Cloud had been interrupted when the neighborhood watch had found this guy lurking around her bar, asking questions about a man with a gun for an arm.

“Looks like you found him, asshole.” The slum residents, ever attuned to signs of danger to one of their own, tactfully turned away as Barret roughly bundled him inside. Necessary it might be, but eventually the brutality became too much for her to bear; she stepped upstairs, leaving the dirtier work to Barret. She would have loved to have Marlene to keep her company, but naturally, Barret had sent her away with Wedge first thing.

Instead, she busied herself with mindless work behind the bar, trying to ignore now-muffled sounds from downstairs, but she couldn’t focus. Grateful when the noise died down, and Barret came back up, a grim look on his face.

“Bad news?” she asked, the question rhetorical. Of course it was bad news. The only question was WHAT.

Barret slumped heavily onto one of her barstools, sighing. The wood creaked ominously under him. “An’ here I thought we were being so clever. Sounds like they knew about us from the start. Shit, maybe even before WE knew about us. Shinra’s got their fucking eyes everywhere. And it turns out, a lot of those eyes are in Sector Six.”

She felt a wave of relief for an anxiety she’d been too afraid to acknowledge. _Cloud, what if he had thought it was Cloud…_ whatever her worries about Cloud, she’d never believe he’d willingly betray them. Not on his life, and after all, she had to trust _someone_ , or life wouldn’t be worth living... But Barret had held that suspicion of him from the beginning, and even after what had happened in the reactors…

“Your boy will be alright,” Barret said, as if reading her thoughts. “We just gotta take care of our OWN business in the meantime.”

“Am I THAT obvious?” she asked him.

He gave her his big teddy-bear grin. “Jus’ a little. To me, anyway.” Barret slapped his thigh. “Enough. Ugh. I need a fuckin’ drink.”

Tifa already had Barret’s favorite bottle ready; over ice, splash of soda. Nothing fancy, but even as he accepted it wordlessly, he expressed his satisfaction with a long hearty swig and a sigh of contentment before continuing. “They know we’re here in Sector Seven. Guy’s not with Shinra; he’s just a flunkie of Don Corneo’s. Don’t think he knows much about his boss’s business, and he won’t take back any intel. I made sure of that.“ Tifa didn’t ask him to elaborate. “They picked someone just smart enough to be trusted, just stupid enough that it wouldn’t be a huge waste if he got caught. Sloppy.” Barret shook his head.

_Don Corneo_. Local bigwig, opinions ranging from grudging respect to fear to disgust. Tifa fell in that last category. The women he had working for him… Services so expensive that rarely could anyone but high-level Shinra executives afford them. Naturally, if someone _else_ had the gil, they were entitled to the same… privileges. Given the level of clientele, Corneo could choose to exploit the most beautiful women available.

But that offered her – and AVALNCHE – an opportunity.

It was practically a rule that Barret would favor charging right in – and Tifa would favor caution. This time, she felt her approach was called for. “Don’t even think about it Barret,” she spoke to his yet-unvoiced thoughts. “You’ll never get in. He’s too well guarded, Might as well try to storm the Shinra building itself.”

Barret looked abashed, confirming his thoughts had already been travelling that route when she headed him off. “There’s only one way to get in,” she continued.

He gave her a look of absolute horror as comprehension set in. “Tifa, you can’t possibly...” he finally began.

“Yes, I CAN,” she replied, feigning more confidence than she actually felt. If Cloud was only here… But he wasn’t, was he? And she had been on her own for a long time – what had changed in the past few weeks to make her such a coward, afraid of going on without him?

It was a false sense of security in any case, she realized, thinking of the reactor and how easily that could be swept out from under her. He might or might not reappear soon, but it was her responsibility to be her own hero once again.

None of which contradicted the fact that she was frankly terrified.

She’d heard of seduction missions done. Could she even DO something like that… _yecch_ … she couldn’t even entertain the possibility, telling herself that it would be just a matter of getting in and wringing the information out of the Don and fighting her way out, right? She hoped she wouldn’t need a safety net, because frankly, she couldn’t think of one.

_Fuck_. She seriously didn’t want to do this, but there were others to think about. AVALANCHE, now that their cover was blown. The people of the slums, most of whom didn’t even realize there was a cell of terrorists in their midst. She’d known the people here for five years, now – they were her neighbors, friends. _Home_. If she and the others had put them in danger… she owed this to all of them.

Bracing herself, she calmly explained her reasoning to Barret, he struggling to contain his temper. Fortunately, she’d had years of practice chilling him out in Marlene’s absence. Some soothing words, a top-off of his drink, and he was slowly coming around to the idea.

“I don’t like it, Tifa. Not at all. I don’t like you risking yourself like this. I want to say, it ain’t worth it, but unfortunately I know you’re right.”

Tifa nodded. “Still got that asshole spy handy? Find out from him how to get into Don Corneo’s.”

“For you? I don’t think I’ll really have to do that at much CONVINCING. He was checking you out anyway when we first dragged him in.” Barret grinned evilly. “I oughta give him an extra punch just for that. But that’s not important right now.”

“I know,” Tifa replied, already planning in her head.

The others got the information quickly enough; the captive got on the phone, and Tifa heard a rather graphic description of her, uh, assets - which apparently passed standards as word came through that a chocobo carriage would be by for her soon enough. Well. Now at least she knew what was expected, and she could go from there.

Rumpling through her closet, she found a rather… _revealing_ … blue dress she’d worn for New Year’s Eve a few years back. She was surprised to find out she still had not only the dress, but the accessories as well. Belt, earrings. Matching blue shoes, platform pumps, that practically screamed “come fuck me!” Abruptly, she remembered, that night… she’d done exactly that. How long ago now that seemed, that idle memory now feeling like no more than a bit of girlish nostalgia, seeping her up into thoughts of Cloud again. How she wanted him touching her like a woman, sprawls of fantasy spiderwebbing outward from one intimate moment in the tunnel… and while she dressed, she let her mind go free.

Applying rarely-used makeup, she examined her face closely, thinking how if things in her life had been different, maybe this would have been the sort of woman she would have been, finding her value in her attractiveness to men, not in herself. Or if Nibelheim had not happened, would she now be measuring her worth by the man she married? Could that man, in another universe, have been Cloud?

She reminded herself that she’d started to become the woman she was now in part because of him, and it had taken her further than she could have expected – but what was their relationship to each other now? Assuming he was still alive (no, she shushed that thought, revising it to “when they met again”) it was still something being established, felt out, and she had only the faintest idea of where she might WANT it to go, as she slowly began to get to know him all over again.

As a last step, she pulled the tie out of her hair, and with one arm, behind her neck, she swept it over her head, brushing her now-bare arms with a tickle she found not unpleasant. She looked at herself in the mirror, and it was the strangest sensation to realize… she was beautiful. It was the sort of thing that was always in the background of her mind, something she just KNEW – part of her living came from it, she couldn’t deny that – it just wasn’t something she often allowed herself to feel. But now… she took a mental step back to survey herself, appraising. Obviously she was the same woman, but the little touches here and there made all the difference. Even more important than how they looked, combined together it was what the image before her SAID, that this was a woman asking to be looked at.

Was that an invitation Cloud would be willing to accept?

She thought, then, how a look could be so different depending who it came from. She realized she wanted him to look at her, his eyes traveling over her skin, intimate as fingertips. But it was… _Cloud_. What did that mean?

It brought up confusing questions she wasn’t sure she was ready to contemplate, and she was grateful to be interrupted. “Carriage is ready,” she heard Biggs’ voice call from downstairs, and she tugged nervously on her skirt with a last glance in the mirror. This was on her. Not Cloud. Time to be a different kind of hero.


	28. December 11, 0007 (PM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication for this chapter is to SSD/SailorStarDust1, Ever After Discord Member and writer on this site, because late one night after reading her “My Little Honeybee” I spontaneously wrote this – and ended up with some characterization for Aerith that I had been struggling with. It’s the Wall Market scenario – started with OG, added some Remake, and ended up just going plain screwball – because it’s WALL MARKET, how can you not.

Aerith lay in bed, breathing still and slow as the sounds of the house settled into silence. Poor Cloud. He’d try to sneak out only to end up lost on the way, allowing her to catch up via more efficient backroutes.

In the meantime, it gave her a pause to think. Her mind was running with emotions laid dormant for so long, brought up by reminders all around, and in the excitement of the day this was the first time she was able to put them into any sort of order. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Cloud had entered her life for a reason, but what was it? Several angles from which she observed him, all of them giving a slightly different image of this man, and all at once it was overwhelming; she could only take in the picture a little bit at a time.

She supposed the best solution was also the simplest. Stick close and get to know him a little better; she’d figure out the rest along the way. Hey, it could even be fun. Cloud was such a… well, such a _dork_ , trying so hard to play at his conception of a fighter, a hero, but his true nature obvious to anyone who wanted to take more than a cursory look. A softer side, one he’d hate even admitting that he had.

But really, he just didn’t know how to use it.

And while she was at it… what were her OWN feelings in all of this? She was just so confused; she’d glue herself to his side until she had some answers. Which way should she push him to go?

*******

Cloud woke from furtive dreams that he could little more remember than those lost years. He thought faintly he might have been dreaming of his mother, following on that brief flash of memory upon entering Aerith’s house… but all that remained was a bare image of her still young and beautiful despite having an adult son, and then it was gone.

He looked at the clock; he’d only dozed for an hour, his internal timer going off just as he had planned. The rest of the house was quiet, and he carefully stood up, relieved that Aerith had gone to sleep and he could make his getaway cleanly, just as he had promised. Worry for Tifa was prominent in his mind. He had to get back. Time to get started.

He hadn’t bothered to undress; gathering his gear quietly, he cautiously opened the door to the hallway, pausing for a moment as his ears craned for telltale signs from the other rooms. None. Good. He crept down the hallway, wincing when a board creaked under his feet, not freely exhaling until he was in the garden outside.

The fresh air near Aerith's house quickly gave way to the more fetid air of the slums proper, the reverse of earlier’s journey into verdance. Green receded, turning slowly back into bare rock and rusted scrap. At this hour, only a few denizens were out – as he fumbled his way through the warren of shacks, looking for the way out of town, he was grateful for few prying eyes so no one would –

“Leaving so soon?”

_Shit._

Aerith blocked his path through the gate. She must have been there waiting for him, but she looked so fresh and ready to go that he wondered how long she’d actually been waiting. How did she sneak ahead of him like that?  
  


“Aerith,” he started awkwardly, not sure what to say next.

She cocked her head, unmoved. “You wouldn’t have gone far,” she told him brightly. “Sector Six is still under construction. It’s a mess. And I can tell you haven’t been in Midgar long.”

“It shows, huh?” he asked.

She motioned her fingertips, a fraction of an inch apart. He sighed.

She pulled him aside, through the back way that would circumvent the nuisance of going through Wall Market; he allowed her to guide him through a graveyard of debris, collapsed remnants of what was once meant to be an expressway. He tried to insist she step back when they were attacked by garbage-strewn monsters, harder than the throwaway rats and bugs they had met earlier that day; but she was having none of it. Plodding through fight after fight, he wondered how she could so calmly and primly brush off her dress after being sprayed with monster guts only moments before.

He wasn’t sure quite WHAT to make of this strange girl. In many ways, she was a breath of fresh air for him – no preconceived notions, no expectations – and he experienced that as a sense of relief, the lifting of the burden of having to live up to something. _To a promise_. As much as Tifa accepted him as is, he was painfully conscious of what he DIDN’T become, what he DIDN’T do to save her. Aerith let him slip inside the cover of a role, feeling safe and warm inside.

But she wouldn’t let him get away with hiding, either – not without a fight. She avidly tried to draw him out, and although he was initially annoyed, part of him couldn’t help but be charmed by this girl, who simply refused to accept that anything would go any way other than _her_ way. As they forged their way on, the time passed easily, he forced to admit that she did make the journey easier. More entertaining, at least.

Aerith smirked inwardly. Initially anxious about him disappearing on her, she relaxed now that she’d have him for at least the journey back to Sector Seven. And she was doing her best to get him to do the same, lighten up a little bit. Drop that front he put on. With her earlier fears vanishing into the background, she let herself try and have a little fun with him – and little by little it seemed to be working.

But even as she joked and laughed with a reluctant Cloud, thoughts of Zack were never far behind. How could it be otherwise? The hurt crept up on her unbidden, Cloud’s every motion bringing back something that she had tried so hard to keep buried. She was dying to know and wracking her brain trying to come up with a circumspect way to ask – _could he have know him?_ Even – she dared to hope – have some knowledge of what had happened to him?

Slowly but surely, she started to draw him out. By the time open space came into view, she had nearly gotten him to crack a smile; she could counted that as a win.

She’d been so caught up in the little game of their travel that she’d nearly forgotten about it until they were right on top of it, rounding the corner to a nostalgic sight.

“I can’t believe it’s still here!”

Aerith couldn’t help herself. Giddy as a child, she ran over to the moogle slide, leaving Cloud standing puzzled, as she clambered up the handholds to the top. Greedily, she pulled herself up, cold stone bringing back memories of walks in the smoky Midgar dusk, promises to see the true sky. And even before then, when as a child Elmyra would bring her here, when construction was still active and the site not flooded with monsters.

For a few fleeting seconds, she allowed herself to be a child again, a little girl in a yellow dress climbing a piece of playground equipment that would never be so large to her again. Nor would anything else, because now she was a woman in a pink dress, with too many memories and not enough open sky in her past.

She settled herself up top, smoothing her dress down with some semblance of modesty. She waved back down to Cloud, standing in the same place still and looking at her like he thought she was crazy. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“It’s silly,” he said flatly. “Not interested.”

“Well, of COURSE it’s silly. It’s a slide shaped like a moogle, for Planet’s sake!” She interlaced her fingers, balancing her chin on them. “Come on. Take a break.”

He paused, then shrugged; _another small victory._ A minute later, he was pulling himself up beside her, oh-so-familiar sword and all. He plopped down a couple of feet away from her; she only looked at him for a moment, then scooched over, closing the gap. For a moment, nothing was said, the two sitting in neutral silence. “So what’s the big deal about this place?” Cloud finally asked.

“I used to sell flowers here.” Aerith looked down sadly, restrained want to tell warring with the need to keep as secret. “Well, more than that. I came here with… the first guy I ever loved.” Her head hung, she staring vacantly at the ground, jovial mood now broken by the memories she’d been trying so hard to keep away. “You… remind me of him, some. I started thinking about him again. He was in SOLDIER, too.”

“Oh?” Cloud asked. “What class? I was First – I might have known him if he was too.”

“He was –“ Aerith began, stopping short as she realized she didn’t want to complete that statement. WAS. A single word that made the loss that much more real. _Twenty-three wishes. Eighty-nine letters. Five gil for a flower. Two years… and one very important secret._ A relationship of numbers, now nothing but a series of digits in her memory banks. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We really weren’t serious,” she finished, deliberately dismissive.

Cloud was left seemingly at a loss for what to say in return – Aerith mentally kicked herself for ruining what could have been a perfectly good mood. Sh _ould’ve kept my mouth shut._ Guilty, as well, for making her memories of Zack seem so flippant

A rumbling behind them sounded the opening of the gate to Sector Seven, and Aerith’s hopes surged that they could get to Sector Seven directly instead of the underground passage. But as they turned towards the fortress-caliber doors, to their surprise, a chocobo carriage emerged - a gaudy, overwrought concoction, right down to the gold chocobos wasted as cart steeds, signaling this one was exclusive to Don Corneo – and Aerith knew what that meant.

The girl in the back though… she seemed somehow… _above_ Corneo’s usual tastes. Despite her revealing attire, there was something different about her. Far more elegant, beautiful. A gentle, warm aura seemed to radiate from her. _Hardly the type to put herself up for Corneo. What’s the deal with her?_

She turned ready to hop off the slide and run through the gate before it closed up again, only to see Cloud staring after the carriage, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. _“Tifa???”_ he asked, incredulous. “Where’s she going? Dressed like that?”

Tifa heard a noise from outside and barely had time to register that it was Cloud, there with a girl in pink she didn’t recognize, before he came running up to the carriage. Catching up as it slowed into a turn, with one powerful leap he caught the back railing, clinging on. Her heart jumped in relief. He was alive, just as she had hoped for, but… “Cloud? I’m so glad you’re alright. But what happened? How did you get here?”

“Never mind. What are YOU doing here? Where are you going?”

She shushed him with a finger to her lips. “I’m going to see Don Corneo,” she said quietly. “Cloud… we caught a spy. Shinra knows about AVALNCHE. Don Corneo’s been feeding them information, and I’m trying to find out more.” She looked at him with warm affection, even though creased worry crossed his face; she had no doubt he’d be ready to slice the carriage in two, had she asked. “Trust me. I got this.” Obviously reluctant, he nodded, dropping off the back of the cart.

Aerith had watched the whole exchange with concertation, and now she looked at him with disapproval, hands on her hips. _Tifa…_ it was all in the sound of his voice, the way he said her name. Someone important to him. _How important?_ She’d thought she might have been jealous, but instead she found his concern warmed her heart with the worry he displayed. A flash of the real Cloud within, the man who cared more deeply than he wanted to admit – the part of him she perhaps hoped to draw out further.

Another piece of Cloud had just clicked into place for her.

With the carriage departing into Wall Market, Cloud turned back, making as if to head towards Sector Seven. Aerith put herself firmly in the way, blocking him. “Hold on, Cloud,” she scolded. “Where do you think YOU’RE going? That’s one of Don Corneo's carts. Don’t you know what that means?”

“Yeah, that’s where she said she was going.” He shrugged. “She can fight. How much trouble can she get into? It’s not like she’s going into a den of monsters.”

“You really AREN’T from the slums, are you? Or you would already know who Don Corneo was.” A put in the bottom of her stomach. Stories, worse upon worse, particularly when it came to women. “A den of monsters is EXACTLY where she’s going – you have no idea. She’s in over her head, and _you_ , mister, are just going to have to get her out.” And if he felt for Tifa even half of what she suspected, he would.

He opened his mouth, but before he could tell her to head home, she’d cut him off. “And I’m going with you. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

He bit the retort on his tongue. No point in even trying to argue with her. “Where should we start?”

*******

Wall Market was... something else. He nearly gaped as they entered. A plethora of those sights and sounds giving him a headache, fortunately just an ordinary one over those stinging flashes that had so bothered him recently . Barkers shouted all kinds of distractions, both wholesome, and… _seedier_ … and the casual inquiries they made about girls all led them towards one place… the Honeybee Inn.

A gaudy, overwrought establishment, enormous sign across the street screaming “Supergirls!” and Cloud shuddered in disgust. _What on Gaia had Tifa gotten herself into?_ Suddenly, he was grateful that Aerith hadn’t let him walk away so easily. It looked like this might be more dangerous than he had anticipated.

To the left of the door, Cloud spied a familiar looking redhead – a big doofus who had left the slums with a hue and a cry, swearing he was going to leave Midgar to see the world. A sometimes admirer of Tifa who didn’t stand a chance, and only Tifa’s diplomatic heart had stopped her from blowing him off completely. Cloud had considered it no great loss to Sector Seven, but he was surprised to find the man here now. “Johnny?” he asked. “Weren’t you leaving Midgar?” He had dearly hoped.

“Hey, bro,” the idiot replied. “That’s the plan, but you know, I wanted to do something special? Like a last-memories of Midgar thing?”

Cloud looked from the sign back to the man. He didn’t think… _Like buy Tifa? Your treat before you leave? You called her an angel of the slums, you pig_. An image of this man, or any other man, with Tifa, on top of her, grunting and sweating… He bleached the image out of his brain with a shiver. _No way would he allow that_. He snapped.

“Let’s go, Aerith, we’re getting Tifa out of here NOW.” He grabbed her wrist, and she yelped as he tugged her along behind him, he giving his most dangerous glare to the repugnant, lecherous men that now seemed to be crowding the entrance – every kind from street punks to Shinra suits. _All probably ready and willing to fuck Tifa for her breasts_. More shitbags who couldn’t see anything past her body. “ _Move_ ,” he roughly pushed the Shinra manager out of his way as he barreled inside.

Interior, luxuriant velvet opulence, not the only red Cloud was seeing at the moment. Aerith, to his left and behind, faithfully staying by his side - and for her own safety if nothing else, he was glad. Pretty boys and girls for all manner of tastes surrounded him, men in tailored clinging trousers and vests with tails, women dressed in – _Really?!? – BEE_ costumes, that above and beyond the sheer absurdity, displayed the wearer’s available assets to eager spectators. One female gave him a flirtations glance as he passed, but he made a line for the front desk and the snide receptionist attending it.

“Welcome to the Honeybee Inn,” the young man, dressed snazzy and sharp in mustard suit and tie, greeted them cordially. “Is there a honeygirl or honeyboy I might interest you in?”

Fuck this shit, he was getting to Tifa any way that he could. “We want Tifa.” His hand itched to grasp his sword, wishing he’d stopped that carriage before she got further into this.

The receptionist’s smooth exterior didn’t change. “Sir, we certainly try our best to accommodate all requests.”

Cloud was going to get nowhere fast here, that was obvious to Aerith; talking was hardly his strongest skill. Sliding up to Cloud’s side, she gave the man at the desk a deliberately wide-eyed, innocent gaze. “I’m soooo sorry about him,” she drawled, oozing proverbial honey into her voice. “But you see he lets me pick the girls whenever we play, and Tifa is just so _totally_ my type – “ here Aerith sighed breathily for dramatic effect – “and, well, when we heard she’d become available, we just had to rush right over.”

Cloud, slowly catching on, fortunately went along with it. “And I don’t want any sloppy seconds. I want her before half of Wall Market has her,” he told the receptionist harshly. “First dibs. Don’t care what it costs.” Turning to Aerith, he decided to do his best to play along. “I just can’t way to see you and her playing around, sweetheart. I hear they have a hot tub room and everything.” He could FEEL the mako in his eyes glittering in amusement.

“That sounds great, snookums,” Aerith replied, sparkling green eyes laughing as loud as they could. Despite Cloud’s worries, the sheer absurd humor of the situation was beginning to make itself apparent. “But you know, what I really want to do is watch YOU and her together. I went first last time.” Making kissy noises at him, she wondered if she was going too far over the top.

It was ludicrous, and abruptly Aerith realized that the receptionist was just _staring_ at them, eyes narrowed in a blend of confusion and caution. “Excuse me… but you DO realize what kind of place this is, don’t you?”

  
Aerith and Cloud, suddenly doubtful, both went dead silent.

“This is… Wall Market’s finest _supper club_ ,” he told them, Contemptuous. “Our ladies are dancers. _Professionals_.” He sighed. “I fear if you are looking for those sorts of services, I regret to inform you that you have come to the wrong place.” He picked up a pen. “Should you be interested in one of our guest rooms, however, I can book you for a later date. May I suggest the Queen’s Room, if you would like to bring along an additional guest?”

Cloud was running out of time and patience. “Tifa. Is she here or not?”

“Ah, yes. We did receive word of the girl you are looking for,” the young man replied. “She came into town with a rather… glowing… recommendation. They would have taken her straight up to the Don’s mansion.”

Cloud let Aerith be the one to politely thank the receptionist; his mind was already whirring ahead. If she was in a bind, it was his job to get her… unbound. SHIT. That made him think of something to worry him more... what if… that was something the Don was into…

He shook his head to clear it. Better not go there. Focus.

*******

Cloud wandered the streets of Wall Market, alone, anxious and impatient. Frustrated. The buzz of Wall Market beckoned all around him, all the sins of entertainment that Midgar could puke up here plastered for whoever had enough gil to pay. He refused to submit to the temptations, preferring to be left alone with his thoughts instead.

Earlier, Cloud had neither noticed nor cared, except to keep a watchful eye for danger, fearing for Tifa desperately but conscious of a responsibility to the woman at his side as well, his impromptu bodyguard stint not quite up. And if it weren’t for the urgency of the unfortunate circumstances, she’d have made this little side trip rather pleasant. He felt… sort of a remembered, gentle connection to Aerith, from where he didn’t know.

_A fighter who has found his purpose; a woman – or two?_ That was what Madam M had told him as she stroked his palm. _You’ve cheated death more than a few times._ That last, for sure was true.

But what she had said… two women, and both felt like his burden. An overt promise to Tifa, an implied promise to Aerith – a mere affinity of promise and protection that he felt around her, but there it was.

Two chances to be a hero - it was still what he wanted, in a way. As much as Tifa assured him he was fine the way he was - even as he tried to take her at her word, there was part of him that almost felt a little – _denigrated_? – by her faith in him. Because he HAD failed her when she needed him, and he couldn’t get that out of his head, and that was still there weighing on his heart every time he looked at her.

Aerith, on the other hand… freed of expectations he was able to forget his weaknesses. She was someone who would be easy to be a hero for.

**Easy to love.**

Where had THAT come from?

The goons at the mansion had made it pretty clear that there was no way he could break Tifa out without risking her safety; and it was pretty damn obvious to him that whatever was going on right now, she wasn’t going to be able to break herself out either. All he could do was hoped she hadn’t been harmed in any away – yet- but with every passing second, the risk grew, while he waited for Aerith to be prepared to be presented to the Don. Since it was apparent she was the only one who would be able to get in.

And he worried about that too.

Running his mind in mad circles, he was crossing the bridge back into the heart of town, when suddenly a vision stepped into his view.

_Aerith_.

His response was subconscious, primal. Unavoidable. The same girl, obviously, but amazing what a difference had been made… carefully curled hair framing a face where makeup enhanced her fine features and luminescent green eyes; an eye-catching red dress that clung to curves hidden under her earlier pink garb, making her a sculpture to freely admire, all the way down to small feet encased in slender-strapped sandals, everywhere accented with pieces of jewelry, and Cloud couldn’t help thinking –

_Beautiful._

She watched as he drank her in, for a small amount of time able to see herself through Cloud’s eyes; and she couldn’t deny she was tempted by what she saw – even as she knew neither their images were true. She wasn’t this goddess encased in ruffles and red, and he… broken, unfinished, belonging to no one, but needing desperately that attachment nevertheless. And she saw the danger, certainly how easily he could bring her into that that line of thought, she lonely for so long, just wanting to give in.

Her mother had told her, _find your own promised land_ , and that was something she’d hoped to find with Zack – but instead it had led to a pained shattered heartache. Here, a different man who could bring something new and fresh into her life, but part of her was screaming, _it’s not right, it’s not right_. That it wasn’t love that was hanging between them. but rather something close enough that Cloud could so easily confuse.

She wanted to teach him how to love. She’d be grateful for whatever capacity he found that in. She wished there was a chance it could be with her; there was this part of him just reaching out, that latched onto her, and even tempted to return those feelings herself, she couldn’t figure out what was truth - almost as if she was being _pushed_ towards something when she’d prefer to guide, to heal. It was with all these brazen fantasies and whispered dreams flooding her mind that she cautiously approached.

“Hey, you,” she giggled slightly. “What do you think of the look?” She turned around, looking down either leg. “It’s a little much, I think, but it’s apparently what I need to get in.”

“Yeah. About that.” Cloud leaned back a bit, one hand on his hip, elbow brushing just past his sword. “I know we said this is the only way to get you in, but… I’m starting to think this is a really bad idea. I don’t think it’s safe for either you OR Tifa to be in there alone.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. Especially since we’ve already established the men around here think with their penises.”

Cloud stopped dead and _stared_. “Did you just say _penis_?” he asked.

“Sure did,” Aerith beamed. “Penis. Also known as dick, cock, wiener, tool, schlong, pecker, and _some_ guys –“ here she looked meaningfully over Cloud’s shoulder at his oversized weapon – “like to call it their _sword._ ”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. “Well, alright then,” Cloud finally said.

“Just trust me. Come along.” She motioned, and as she skittered forward, with the expectation Cloud would follow, he started to worry what any plan of Aerith’s might entail…

*******

Aerith led the way down the stairs of cold stone into dark foreboding below, the comparisons to dungeons inevitable. _Where, indeed, were they being sent?_ She was grateful for the reassuring presence of Cloud behind her.

As they reached the bottom, Aerith saw the woman she’d glimpsed in the carriage, and… _Holy, what a body._ Impossible curves, dark silky hair dropping like a sheer waterfall… legs that never ended, lengthened by her stiletto heels, and… well… Aerith didn’t think she’d be able to wear a skirt that short again. Pregnancy and childbirth had permanently changed her figure; her hips were here to stay, and she was suddenly very conscious of how her rear looked in her dress.

This was her first chance to really take in Tifa whole. Cloud had said he’d known her since childhood. Her stature, toned and slender, but something tensed and conflicted about her. A bit unsure of herself. It made Tifa seem a bit more… approachable.

“Tifa?” she asked, and the other woman turned, startled. “You’re Tifa, right? Hi! How’re you doing?”

“Uh, okay I guess…” Tifa trailed off, expression confused, at the woman speaking and the other who had come in with her. “And you are… Wait a minute… You were the one in the park… with Cloud…”

Tifa’s heart sank just a little bit, with a possibility that hadn’t occurred to her. It wasn’t like she had any claim on Cloud – after all she’d been putting off saying so many things… She took a look at the new girl. An elegant long dress that suddenly made her own attire feel cheap. Curves that fitted it just right – Tifa, ever conscious of her disproportionate top, figured _she_ didn’t have to struggle to find clothes that fit. Heart shaped face, porcelain skin, mesmerizing green eyes. And there was a carefree gentleness to her that Tifa couldn’t hope to emulate. _I’ve seen far too much…_

“Oh, I’m Aerith!” A shift in Tifa’s gaze, a brief inability to meet Aerith’s eyes, confirmed everything she had already suspected about Tifa and Cloud. She didn’t want to step on that, didn’t want to hurt any feelings; she thought she’d like to befriend Tifa herself. A shyness in Tifa seemed to cover an inner core of strength, and Aerith found that immensely appealing. “It’s not what you think. Cloud and I just met.”

Tifa blushed in surprise, shaking her head. “No, don’t get the wrong idea… Cloud and I just grew up together…” She was still a bit wary, but found herself warming up to Aerith nevertheless. _Cloud_ … well, this was just another small question in the whole mess of unsolved problems that Cloud already was, that she was still trying to sort out. _That you’re SCARED to figure out_

Aerith laughed, bright and clear. “Poor Cloud, having to sit here and listen to us call him nothing.”

“Huh?” Tifa asked, thoroughly confused. Aerith only gestured to the other woman, who’d been standing there silent until now.

Tifa took in the long-sleeved dress, cinched at the waist with a wide ribbon, long blond braids, wide blue eyes… wait a minute… _those eyes…_

“Oh, no,” she said flatly. “Cloud, you did NOT.”

“I did,” replied Cloud, glum and pissed. “Because it was the only way I could get in to bail you out. Tifa, what the hell did you think you were going to be able to do in here?”

“Well…” Tifa paused. “You see… every night the Don has a choice of three women brought to him – he’s got people looking out for him who know his, um, _tastes_.” Cloud’s thoughts drifted to the extravagant getup forced on Aerith. His own dress was tight in the middle, and eyeshadow itched. “I was assured I’d be a shoo-in to get in his bedroom, and… uh… then… “ She couldn’t say anything else.

“Tifa,” Cloud asked in horror. “You weren’t actually thinking of… going through with this, were you?” His hand flexed, craving the feeling of the sword hidden in a nook above.

Tifa hung her head, embarrassed to admit that before Aerith and Cloud had come in, she’d been psyching herself up for the possibility she might have to do exactly that. “I had to get that information some way or another, Cloud. Barret didn’t want me to, but it was the only way. Something’s going on – I have to find out what Shinra’s planning. Lives could be on the line here.”

“Well, you won’t have to do THAT. I’m not planning to, either,” Aerith replied.

They both turned to look at Cloud.

“I certainly hope you two don’t think that I’M going to put out,” Cloud grumbled.

“I wasn’t thinking any such thing,” Aerith demurred slyly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tifa added, hiding a giggle behind her hand.

Cloud was pretty much over it. “In fact, I’d appreciate itif this whole episode never goes beyond the three of us.” The two women exchanged a look, and he realized he’d forgotten to ask they didn’t discuss it with each other.

He was certain they’d be talking about this between the two of them for a long time to come.

A gong interrupted, summoning them upstairs. They quickly conferred. “So we don’t know which one of us is going to get picked,” Aerith said.

“Oh, Cloud can take care of himself, I can handle myself,” Tifa said. “But what about you, Aerith? What if you’re the one chosen?”

“I have to make sure you don’t go in there alone,” added Cloud.

“You’ll let Tifa go in, but not me?” Aerith replied, an uncharacteristic flash of irritation. “You’ve seen me fight. I’ve lived in the slums for yours, don’t you think I’ve learned a few tricks to take care of myself?”

Tifa looked at Cloud, questioning.” Ok, I’ll vouch for her,” Cloud replied grudgingly. “She can hold her own.” Aerith smiled in satisfaction.

“Ladies, the Don doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” a voice called from upstairs; a final nod, and the trio headed up.

Cloud was very grateful he hadn’t let the girls alone once the three of them were lined up, waiting, and the boss came out, looking every bit the slimeball he’d expected. Mentally he noted the position of the goons, preparing for a fight if the Don so much as laid a finger on them. He stilled himself with difficulty as the Don let his lewd gaze crawl over the three of them, eyeing breasts and asses with a sense of full entitlement.

“Nice, very nice,” the Don half-purred, sweeping a final gaze over Tifa and Aerith. “But you know – “ he swiveled his head to Cloud – “I really prefer blondes – “

\- and Cloud found himself dragged forward, last glimpse the Don’s goons closing in on the two of them –

*******

Four guys, two girls.

Really unfair.

For the guys, that is.

The men leering at them, tongues nearly dropping to the floor, their minds filled with all the disgusting things they’d get to do to the “rejects”, as she and Tifa had been called.

Aerith gave them a smile and a look of such blatantly faked innocence that she was amazed they didn’t see right through it. “I’m pretty much ready whenever, how about you, Tifa?”

Tifa returned to look with a knowing smile and nod. “Right.”

\- and in a split second, Tifa downed one man with a pinch, another with a swift roundhouse kick.

Aerith wasted no time herself, kneeing a third man in the groin, he crashing to the floor with his hands cupping his nuts as he groaned in pain; the last man held back, unprepared for the sudden onslaught. Aerith reached down and grabbed the cushion he’d been standing on, dropping him to the ground, and as he looked up surprised, she grabbed the nearest item – a folding chair. “No…” was all he had time to say before Aerith flashed him her brightest smile, and brought the chair smashing down on his head.

They surveyed their would-be assailants, now unconscious or incapacitated, and the two women spared a moment for a smile and a high-five of victory, before retrieving their gear from their stash and re-equipping.

Next stop of course: Save Cloud.

*******

The reports coming on from the Don were bothering Tseng. He’d been content to leave Aerith with Cloud for the time being, but now that she had gotten mixed up with AVALANCHE it was a different story, especially now that the order had finally come down to take her officially into custody. With the reactor bombings, Shinra sought the Promised Land ever that much more urgently.

And even behind that, what troubled Tseng more was the order to dispose of the terrorist. _Dropping the plate_. A darkened possibility built into the pillar system that Tseng had thought too absolute for Shinra ever to use.

Why was he surprised after all his years in the Turks?

Rude had already leaked out just enough into Sector Seven; the neighborhood watch was already converging to defend the pillar.

And – _Aerith forgive me –_ he’d pull her in himself. As he’d always promised himself he would, if it came to that.

That, and one other _small_ responsibility he had to her…

Cloud was the wild card in the whole scenario. Reno’s reports had assured him that Aerith was safely protected with the man; Cloud had certainly shown himself capable in that regard. But HOW that happened was the real question, three months before Cloud a vegetable that Shinra hadn’t even bothered with, now risen back from the dead - and not only claiming to be SOLDIER, but certainly presenting like one.

The one missing piece: what had gone ON in Hojo’s lab these past few years?

He could only be grateful he had not been a part of it.

Plans changing with circumstances, sometimes suiting him to go along with Shinra, sometimes jumping the gun, sometimes even going against in the most subtle of ways if it was best for the company – or, rarely, if another reason warred with it. _Very_ rarely.

_Let’s find out who Cloud is now._

He picked up his phone.


	29. December 12, 0007 (AM)

“Yuck,” Tifa said, pulling some…. she didn’t even want to know _what_ off her hand. Luckily, the filthy water hadn’t spilled over the tops of her boots, though her stockings had been splashed slightly.

A few feet away, Cloud was helping Aerith to her feet. The other girl had somehow managed to soil not even so much as the hem of her skirt in the drop down from Corneo’s, adding to her aura of effortless femininity. It made Tifa a bit envious, truthfully - as much as anything else for what that represented. A peaceful, tragedy-free life, not always ready for battle, poised for disaster, the way her life had become as a part of AVALANCHE.

Femininity was a luxury lost to her long ago.

But Tifa had to agree with Cloud, there was steel and strength underneath the pink - as they toughed their way through slimy muck and the crushed masonry of ancient aqueduct paths, the impediments of the conditions heightening her fear as they rushed back as fast as they could. Guilty, she knew she should be fearful for ALL the citizens of Sector Seven, but she couldn’t help it – she worried first and foremost for her friends, those closest to her. _Was that selfish of her?_ “Marlene,” Tifa half-moaned, thoughts unavoidably drifting to the girl, practically her daughter. “Barret… all of them…”

Aerith schlepped over, boots squishing in the goop underneath. She touched one hand to Tifa’s arm, green eyes full of concern and compassion. “Don’t give up yet, Tifa,” she encouraged. “It’s not like the pillar can come down so easily, right? All we can do is keep going. Don’t give up until it’s over.” Much to Tifa’s surprise, something in Aerith’s aura, her touch, soothed her despite it all, restoring a miniscule bit of the hope she was trying so hard to hold onto.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it,” Tifa admitted, relieved to have someone to voice her worry to. _The pillar_ … she couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it, but deep down she knew it was true.

It was an interesting dynamic the three of them shared. The sheer length of time she had known Cloud sometimes lent itself to awkwardness, to a heaviness of topics a bit too hot to touch; when she wanted so badly to breach his walls but something stopped both from crossing.

Aerith brought a fresh sparkle of liveliness to the trio despite their urgent circumstances. With the need for AVALANCHE’s secrecy and safety foremost in her mind, Tifa had been at first a bit suspicious about Aerith’s inclusion – concerned as well for Aerith herself, now entrenched in a fight that wasn’t her own. But Aerith seemed unaffected, gleefully throwing herself to their cause with little more than a few words explaining WHAT she was getting herself into, the first to urge them let’s go, forward, keep moving, topped by her own exuberant attitude, a welcome distraction from the panic threatening to rise uncontrolled in her throat.

She found herself examining Cloud through Aerith’s eyes as well. While she’d been handling Cloud like glass to some degree, careful not to crack his poorly-built façade; Aerith seemed none too concerned, gaily punching holes in his too-cool demeanor. Self-doubt plagued her; was she doing the right thing? She’d wanted to protect Cloud, care for him; she’d stopped trying to pressure him to remember, and now just observed, patiently. But really, did she want him to stay for himself – or for HER?

She’d come this far on her own – why did she now want so desperately to have him to lean on?

Aerith followed Tifa’s eyes over to Cloud, the man trying so hard to fill the role of hero/leader, the way he saw it. It made her giggle inside. Someone ought to tell that guy everyone can see right through him. But a salty sort of charm to him, something all his own, at the same time that now and then something else would just catch her, a word, a motion, leaving her flustered and wondering and unsure of just how to make sense of anything she was thinking and feeling; and then she’d look back at Tifa and wonder about that too, what was meant to be, what would be, and if those were even the same thing.

She’d been swept up into all this so suddenly, if not unwillingly; for now, all she could do was take her own advice. _Keep going forward._

Ahead of them loomed the threat of Shinra, the pillar’s destruction, the plate drop. How many lives would be changed irrevocably if they failed? She could picture it, loosely at the borders of consciousness, not knowing this time if it was the Planet’s voice or her own morbid imagination creating this worst-case future and every permutation in between – each possible result changing ever so gently the course of destiny.

_The future is not set in stone._

They were close, so close to the way out, a floating bridge of wobbling platforms; Cloud, now all gentleman, crossed first, testing the stability, his reflexes conscious of every shift. The stagnant water flowed around, lapping at the edges, not just disgusting filth but mako-contaminated toxicity, corrosive, deadly. A last step across, mollified that it would hold, he motioned to the ladies.

Tifa crossed first, a splash of fear showing but trained martial arts senses helping her keep her balance as she made it across with little difficulty; with a small hop, she landed, Cloud’s arm already out to steady her if it was called for. “Come on, Aerith,” she called encouragement to the other side; Aerith stood staring at first, eyes nearly popping out of her head.

With trepidation, she stepped out onto the first block, nearly slipping but regaining her footing on the unstable platform. Firm-jawed, she made her way across inch by painstaking inch, as Cloud and Tifa urged her on. She had nearly made it across when a shift was the only warning she received, realizing the platform was about to capsize into the poison water.

She didn’t know who yelled at her **jump** , but her body reacted even before her mind could catch up, and suddenly Tifa’s slender arms snapped around her; securing her balance with surprising strength, and as they looked back and down together, the platform she had just escaped upended and finally sank below the surface.

Aerith shivered. She turned to Tifa, and the two women shared a nervous giggle as their only acknowledgement of the near miss.

His heartbeat returned to normal as quickly as it had shot up, and Cloud charged forward, already intent on the next goal. Tifa and Aerith were giggling and laughing like old friends, and Cloud wondered _what_ they were talking about. He heard his name, briefly, but asking them about it only gave him a laugh and a knowing smile.

_Saving each other, round and round._ That seemed to be the way it was going, wasn’t it? Tifa had been surprising enough – he was _still_ amazed at what she’d built herself into over the years – but Aerith took to their mission nearly as easily. _Why so eager to throw in her lot with a bunch of terrorists? Who blew up the reactor in her sector just yesterday?_

Then again, she hadn’t precisely explained her involvement with the Turks, either. Perhaps she held her own grudge against Shinra. That, more than anything else, made sense.

His eyes flickered instinctively from one woman to the other. Both his responsibilities. Both his to protect, to be theirs to count on. He couldn’t let himself fail either one.

As if on cue, he saw them both stumble, flailing for balance, and as he leapt forward to catch them, his boots met with nothing but air beneath, and he barely had time to realize he was _falling_ to the poison below -

\- and he grabbed for the flash of metal before him, gloves wrapping around Aerith’s staff. Jerking his head up, he saw the faces of both women contorted as they strained to pull him up, working in tandem as they tugged with their combined force. Suddenly, he was flung onto the platform, both reeling backwards with the force, the clatter of Aerith’s staff as it skittered across the concrete for emphasis.

The three of them traded looks, breathing hard from the exertion. Cloud looked from one to the other, sheepish. _I’m supposed to be the hero here, and look how they ended up saving his ass instead._ “Sorry,” he half-mumbled.

They were all over themselves reassuring him _it’s okay_ , but that feeling of failure stung nevertheless, never mind it came only from within. “Let’s just keep going,” he urged once again.

Climbing UP rather than further down came as a welcome relief. Even the short time they’d spent in the sewers – an hour? Two, at most? – the atmosphere was far from anything that could be considered pleasant, and Cloud knew he’d be grateful for the relatively freshness of slum pollution above. Beside him, Aerith wrinkled her nose prissily, and he didn’t doubt Tifa mirrored her on his other side.

_Almost there..._ He turned to Tifa, her worry amping the closer they got to the exit. He couldn’t doubt he tensed as well, corralling the fear into action as he ran down the possible plans in his mind. A rumble from behind…

_Sahagins_. A whole pack. Growling in their guttural language, but the translation was clear, and they were out for blood – or food. A tasty meal of three humans. He sensed both women poised and ready to either side, no shortage of bravery, but faced with these odds... they’d be more distraction than asset. No fault of theirs. “Go,” he curtly ordered Aerith.

“Now,” Tifa’s voice followed.

Determined, but she nodded and acquiesced. “Okay,” she replied, turning to flee.

Tifa, fists raised. As proud as he was of her… now was not the time. This was a moment to keep that promise. “You too,” he commanded.

“But there’s too many – “ she began, but he cut her off. “Not for me. _GO_ –“ and she did, pausing only a moment before making a break. “Hurry,” she called half-behind her.

Cloud stood his ground. He knew he could take on all the monsters – but it was fast becoming a waste of time. _No shame in retreat._ Knocking two, then three, off balance with a grand swipe of his sword, he saw his opening and he turned and ran…

*******

Single file, the watch charged up the pillar. Barret didn’t know how or where the rumors had started, but he certainly wasn’t about to question why.

_It was fucking Shinra._ He’d believe anything, when it came to them. And dropping the plate... as surreal as the idea seemed, even after they met the first Shinra troops on the pillar, he had to plan for the worst. They had to stop them.

_Marlene, baby girl, Daddy’s gonna fight the bad people. Daddy’s gonna take care of you._

Tifa hadn’t returned; he could only hope she’d make it through on her own. The news had come into Seventh Heaven, the watchman on duty yelling frantically, waving his hands, getting the bar’s undivided attention in seconds. Weapons, placed to the side for a few spare moments to relax, were shouldered, and Wymer was commanding men and women already in motion out the door, slum dwellers used to being shit on by Shinra above but ready to fight to the end for their land and each other.

A younger man – Barret didn’t even know his name, he noted with regret – stepped out of file to secure the landing, waving the rest on forward. Jessie hugged his rear, gun cocked and ready, gunfire ricochets coming deafening from above. Shouted orders from the enemy helicopter, and Barret didn’t hesitate before pouring another volley of bullets in the bird’s direction.

Behind him, men were already falling. _Dying_ , or – He heard a scream and saw a man, riddled by the copter’s guns, go over the edge. Plunging over the side.

_Five stories._ A chance he might make it, unless more ammo took him out before he hit the ground. But for Barret, he could only head for the top -

*******

_Loneliness_ , rampant. Like a film of dust settling on her skin, burrowing below the surface. Tifa could _feel_ those souls lost in the train graveyard, disappeared and joined now to the other side.

She was scared of the ghosts. She had vague memories of wanting to search for her mother’s ghost – leading to that fall, the memories of which she had none.

Aerith, inquisitive, talking to those same specters as if they were old friends; Tifa wondered what Aerith could see that she herself could not. _Memories_ , she seemed to reach. Captive feelings of diaphanous specters, by turns mischievous and dangerous.

The ghosts were fucking with them.

Cloud tumbled both women to the ground an instant before a train car came crashing to the ground, the crash of metal echoing that much louder in the unnerving silence, the only other noise being the whistling wind that rose and quelled, carrying childlike laughter through the gloom.

Aerith didn’t fear the ghosts. She feared more being alone without them. Cut off from any sense of others, whatever state they might be in? Bare flashes from childhood came back to her, mere instants where she had felt totally, completely alone – the most frightening moments of her life.

Besides _that_ , this was nothing.

Even _Cloud_ feared more than her, as much as he tried to play it off. She could sense it as she clung to his left arm, subtle cues a giveaway, even without the fear radiating from Tifa, clinging to his right arm as if for dear life. Aerith offered the silent reassurance she could, maintaining her own composure to keep Tifa focused. It was the least – and best – she could do for her.

She sent a thought to the spirits, hoping it would reach them in the Lifestream where they now resided. _Help us_ , she told them. _Lead us to the way out._ She could have sworn she heard a response… _Hurry_.

Suddenly, Tifa twitched in surprise. “Marlene?” she gasped, for the first time since they’d entered splintering free of the group, towards something Aerith couldn’t sense – and she wondered. Marlene? Her daughter, it must be. Evoked in the way Tifa said the syllables of the name.

_Marlene, crying._ Even the child’s transparent image struck her with fear and longing; the little girl who meant so much to her, who had reminded her of what love really was, when she thought she had forgotten. And what she was fighting for. _Other people. The future._ It wasn’t the ghosts she feared, Tifa realized - it was what ghosts represented. Loss. She’d had more than enough of that - _and she didn’t want any more_ , not if she could do anything about it.

Aerith looked on in sympathy, unable to see what Tifa hallucinated, but more than able to read Tifa’s feelings. _That was what the three of them needed,_ she realized. What the ghosts were giving them to help. _A reminder of what was important_.

The image of the pillar came to Tifa once again. Conscious once again of her goal, she swallowed her fear and pressed on, working through the maze with every step a victory closer to their goal. Marlene’s tearful apparition faded, and Tifa turned to her companions. “Let’s go. We can’t waste any more time.”

*******

“We made it!”

She could hear Aerith and Cloud behind her as she ran, but all Tifa could think of was _ahead_ , the pillar, _still standing._

Around her was chaos. People both familiar and strangers, screaming, running, fleeing. They found themselves forcing their way through against a tide of humanity, pushing their way towards the pillar, standing tall, reaching for the plate above, who knows for how long. Flashes of light and explosions like firecrackers lit up the night, telling them that some were fighting, standing their ground. AVALANCHE, the watch, just regular people, all defending their home together.

“What’s happening?” Tifa cried over the din, but all she could catch were snippets to fill in the story; rumors of the plate drop thankfully preceding them, leaked who knows how, evacuation taking shape – but the danger was still there. People, desperate, not knowing what was going to happen, were fleeing with only the most valuable of their possessions – children, money, some as little as the clothes on their backs. But even in the short while it took them to reach the center of the conflict, organization was taking hold, turning the mass of people into a more controlled flight.

_The Turks,_ some said. The Turks had told them to leave. The Turks were going to drop the plate. Maybe both – she couldn’t get the straight of it, didn’t know what or even HOW to think…

_Marlene_ …

She wanted to run to Seventh Heaven, but… already split between responsibilities when she blasted to the base of the pillar, she was deaf to the sounds of gunfire above… even Barret’s screaming audible from the top… as before her eyes, she saw Wedge fall and crash to the ground.

She and Aerith rushed over, Wedge holding his stomach, alive, but breaths harsh and thin. Aerith leaned over him, a frown of consideration creasing her face.

“Tifa…” she faced the other woman. “I’ll do what I can.” But Aerith’s expression was uncertain, and Tifa could already feel the tears starting to build.

“Don’t worry about me,” Wedge gasped. “No time… Biggs… Jessie… Barret… they all went up…”

_Barret_ … “He left Marlene? What was he thinking?”

“He... thought we could stop it in time. We all did.” Barret, so liable to rush in full of bravado and make a foolish mistake… and this time, that mistake could have fatal consequences, ones she knew the man would never forgive himself for. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here… Tifa… Cloud…”

Cloud nodded, mind already focused on the next objective. “Stay here,” he urged Wedge. He locked eyes with Tifa; she nodded in agreement. As Wedge tried to rise, she placed a hand on his shoulder, soothing, as regretfully she watched Cloud barrel forward towards the pillar and up.

Some of her fellow sector citizens milled around the pillar based, and some of those came forward, lifting Wedge to support him as Tifa and Aerith helped him up. As he waddled away with either arm around another man’s shoulder, she wondered if she’d ever see him again, if any of them would survive this night. _Wedge, you always thought you were a coward, but you’re braver than you know._ He’d already been half up the tower while she was still waiting below…

Aerith caught Tifa’s inadvertent glance upward. _Towards Cloud_. “You’re a fighter,” she told the dark-haired woman gently. “You need to do what you do best”

Yes, but… that heart was torn and helpless right now. _Two choices... both the best…_ there was a solution, but… could she really ask this of someone she had just met? “Aerith…?” she began hesitantly, trying to keep pleading out of her voice. “My bar… Seventh Heaven… it’s in this neighborhood…” _At least, it was_. She realized she’d already given it up in her heart. So sad to be wishing goodbye to her makeshift home, but there was nothing there that couldn’t be replaced. “Barret’s daughter, Marlene, is there…” PEOPLE. The one thing truly valuable, irreplaceable.

Aerith nodded. _Marlene. That child..._ “Say no more. I’ll get her out,” and Tifa’s heart surged with thanks and relief, emotions there were no time to speak. “You go ahead now. Follow your heart.” She took Tifa’s hands in both of hers, and both women’s eyes met in an understanding of hearts and courage. With a quick squeeze, Aerith was already wheeling away, gone into the warren of Sector Seven -

\- and with her departure, Tifa was tearing up the pillar herself, legs moving almost before she knew, racing up endless stairs, thinking only to catch up to Cloud – Countless stairs upwards, but she felt nothing in her legs as her mind went ahead, running, running…

Biggs, barely able to force out the one word “go” instead of “goodbye” as he should have. Bodies hanging over railings, sprawled on landings, her need to rush her only insulation, no time to find out for sure if it was anyone she once had know.

Searchlights swept over the pillar. Gunfire splattering to her left and then right, Tifa wondering how she had lucked out that all the bullets were missing her. But in a removed part of her mind, as she climbed up she noticed not all those bodies were residents of the slums. Troops of Shinra, laid out unconscious but as good as a death sentence unless Shinra chose to bail them out. Shattered mech parts, broken wreckage of destruction rolling through, and she knew…

_Cloud_ … he was still ahead…

Without warning, her foot slipped from under her, the barraged stairs collapsing into bits. Terrified, she launched off the crumbling steps, reaching forward for a handhold that was there no longer and she heard herself screaming the one word, one name…

“CLOUD!!!”

*******

Cissnei hustled through Sector Seven, people fleeing all around her. The leaks had reached the people they needed; leaving the Turks’ conscience as clean as it could be. Not everyone would get out; this was the best they could do. Cloud and Tifa were safe at the pillar, but only as long as Aerith was with them; she hoped, disloyally, that they’d make it out, that Cloud could keep that promise he’d spoken of so long ago.

_Cloud_. Now the SOLDIER he never was… what had happened? _Zack_ , she thought with shame. The day the Turks had failed.

But the clock was ticking, and there was one more small thing to attend to… She snuck through alleys and shadows, past fires already starting in the madness, pushing the way to Seventh Heaven. A flash of pink, might have slipped even her notice, had it not been going the wrong way. She pressed flat against the wall – _Aerith?!?_

_Why was she here?_

She watched where the girl was going.

  
She picked up her phone.  
  
“Urgent, sir,” she launched into her report immediately. “The target is no longer at the location. She’s…” In the distance, the sounds of battle; it might be minutes, it might be hours of gunfire lighting up the dark night sky, but she knew, choices would be made in instants this night.

*******  
  
\- and like magic, his face was before her, palm grasping hers, SOLDIER strength whipping her upwards, hand snaking around her waist as he whisked her behind a metal support, in the same instant a hail of bullets splattered the space where she just had been.

“Nice catch,” she smiled, still half-out of breath but eyes shining.

He wheeled her angrily to face him. “You’re crazy,” he shouted over the din, but even through the glove still resting on her back, she could feel the way his heart was pounding. Eyes full of rage – at HER – and she had never thought them so beautiful as she did then.

_My hero…_

Only now, she wasn’t just here to be saved. She was ready, to fight by his side. It was what he, their promise, had led her to become; it was time. “So are you,” she told him, defiantly. “And I’m not going anywhere, so suck it up.”

He glared – but behind the anger there was something like – _pride_? It held her heart for just a moment as he dropped her arms, lurching forward and with one sweep of his arm, motioning to her to follow him, upwards, further to the top…

_The girl next door._ Cloud didn’t need to look to know she was there, with him, holding her own beside him. _How far we’ve both come…_ and with the threat immediate, the thought following disappeared, waiting to reappear another time, another place.

_…how far we might go…_

*******

Letting the flow of people carry her into the heart of Sector Seven, Aerith now found herself swimming against the river. They didn’t need her shouted encouragement to abandon the sector, and she was only able to get one or two words from frightened citizens, barely more than the general direction to Seventh Heaven.

_Tifa was right, it’s too late…_ there’s no way everyone will get out in time… the soothing exterior was getting harder to maintain, her inner core freaking out underneath the façade. Surrounded by imminent tragedy, how could it be otherwise?

But she’d willingly gotten into this, and she’d see it through.

Fortunately Seventh Heaven was hard to miss – the largest building around, and Tifa was right to be proud. It would only make mourning the loss that much harder, Aerith thought as she entered a warm, homey interior. As she looked closer, she saw signs of something abrupt, panicked were everywhere – chairs overturned, half-empty beers on the table, as if drinkers had fled in a hurry.

There were no signs of life visible, but hesitating a moment, she heard the soft whimpers of a cry. A child. She saw no signs of life, but after a moment she heard the soft whimpers of a cry. A child. Coming from behind the counter…

Aerith approached quietly, carefully, swinging the half-door to the other side of the bar top, scanning Tifa’s neat array of bottles and supplies. To her right, a small but serviceable kitchenette, dishes in the sink the ghostly leftovers of the inhabitants. She followed her ears around and down, finding the object of her search curled up under the counter, arms around her knees, head resting fearfully on her hands as she scrunched further back into the space.

Hearing Aerith’s steps, the girl lifted her head –

\- and Aerith looked into her wide young eyes –

\- and her heart came to a screeching halt.

_Oh, no, no, it couldn’t be…_


	30. December 12, 0007 (AM continued)

“Marlene?” she asked.

Scared and crying. It broke her heart seven ways. “We’re closed right now,” she sniveled. “Come back later. Tifa will be back then.”

_Tifa…_ “Is that your mother?” she asked carefully.

“Tifa’s just a nice lady who helps take care of me.” _More than enough to make a mother,_ Aerith thought. Certainly more than she could claim herself. Marlene’s expressions, her mannerisms, reminding her of Tifa – a mother indeed - it all gave her a warm feeling inside. “I only have a Papa.” Marlene looked at her… confused, though not suspicious, for which Aerith was grateful. “Papa said never to talk to strangers.”

“Your Papa? Barret?” Aerith asked.

“Yeah… that’s my daddy’s name.” Marlene looked up at her. “Do you know him? Is he coming home soon?”

“Not yet, sweetie. He’s fighting the bad people right now.” The explosion in the distance punctuated her words. “Tifa’s there too. That’s why she asked _me_ to come get you, to bring you to your papa. Before it gets too dangerous out there.”

Aerith gradually stretched a hand forward. Marlene didn’t take it; but neither did she draw back. Then Aerith realized her little hands were wrapped around something. _A flower._ “Marlene… where did you get that?” she asked.

“Cloud gave it to me!” Marlene brightened, smiling slightly through the tears. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Aerith stared fondly at that oh-so-familiar bloom. _So far that flower had gone, to bring this reunion about…_ That flower she’s given to Cloud to bring him back, so she’d see him again. Hopes filled in unexpected ways. She’d told herself, _gotta look forward not back…_ but what about when _back_ came back to you?

This close she could see it, _feel_ it, and it left her heart feeling ready to explode. Four years she’d wanted this moment. “Guess what, Marlene?” she asked brightly, heart beating in tandem with the casual words. “Cloud got that flower from _me!_ ”

“From _you_?” Marlene asked, child’s wonder getting the better of her fear.

“Yes!” Aerith replied. “I grow and sell those!”

Distantly she wondered, w _ere they waiting for her to get out?_ But she couldn’t stall forever, just standing at the pillar’s base. _Was she the only thing holding the Sector Seven pillar up?_

It could be true.

She gently coaxed Marlene forward, even as she could dimly hear the chaos outside, trying not to frighten the girl but desperate to get her to safety before it was too late.

“So you’re a flower lady?” Marlene asked curiously. “Do you have _more_?”

“Oh yeah, lots more,” Aerith soothed. “But they’re at my house. Do you want to see? But we have to hurry – we don’t want to keep them waiting!” She reached a little further as she spoke, smiling in encouragement as the moments ticked by,

A pause, and Marlene looked at her with a sadness and wisdom far beyond her four years – and her heart tore further, more than she had ever thought it could. “Are they going to destroy the bar? Are they going to destroy our house?” she asked, lip quivering, and part of Aerith screamed inside. _So young, to know such things…_ was it ever possible to be free of Shinra? Aerith was nothing but a wheel of emotion, pain and anger all but drowned by love first and foremost, and even as screams and explosions echoed impending disaster, she pulled Marlene fully into her own arms, squeezing her tightly, fiercely, sparking the longing that she’d been holding back for so long to surface; and as Marlene threw her own little arms around Aerith’s neck and bawled into her jacket, she wished desperately she would never have to let go.

She indulged herself for the longest moment she could allow, letting Marlene cry her gentle child’s tears, relishing this once chance… it was a gift she hadn’t expected. Through luck or destiny, she did not know, but she didn’t dare to expect she’d get another. She knew she had to do everything she could now.

_A lifetime._ Everything she wanted to pass on, compressed to mere moments. She reached out from her heart to the Planet _further, further_ …

\- _a flicker_. A crackle of nervous energy, and Marlene pulled back, her eyes widening full of surprise – and Aerith knew _she had made it_. She’d crossed. All she could do – and it would have to be enough. As the girl’s eyes settled into amazement and wonder, Aerith put her finger to her lips, sending the message through feelings over their wavering connection, _this is for only you and I to know._ Marlene, too young to embrace it in full, but Aerith was grateful for this briefest of moments. A meaning that would unfold itself through the years, until the time came for Marlene to pass it on to someone else once again, continuing the chain unbroken.

It filled her with regret that she couldn’t afford to linger. Taking Marlene’s hand, she urged her forward as delicately as she could, while still forcing a sedate, steady pace. It was easy enough to meld into the flow of refugees, letting the tide carry her out of the sector, driving forward towards the underground passage. She’d been meaning to send Cloud home this way, until Tifa had driven by in that carriage – was that really only _hours_ ago? With a start, she realized it was still the same night, not even a full day since she had found Cloud at the church, not even two days since she’d first met him – and how far that fateful encounter had taken her. _You can change your life in a single day_. She’d heard that once. Amazing how truly that could happen.

Eager to step up the pace, Aerith scooped Marlene up, flower and all, into her arms and carrying her close to her chest. Marlene chattered gaily along, soothed by the aura of safety that Aerith dearly hoped she was exuding; as they trudged through the concrete tunnel, surrounded by fearful citizens urging each other forward. But it wasn’t until they’d reached the surface, breathing in air that safely belonged to Sector Six, that Aerith herself calmed some.

All around her people were shouting, crying, looking for loved ones. Aerith ran her eyes along the heavy wall, following up to the steel sky that wouldn’t be there much longer; a wall thick enough to absorb the shock of the impact, leaving the other sectors superficially untouched. As if the slum residents could go on as if nothing had happened. If she knew the grounders, they’d never forget.

But above? A slice of a giant pie, removed as if eaten? A sight of pure destruction, a wrecked island in miles of progress? How would they explain it away? Would they stare out the Shinra building in shock – or could people really look aside so easily?

Now that Marlene was out – how much time was left? How long for Cloud and Tifa- and Shinra – to reach the top? The early hours of the morning darkness were slithering away. Determined, Aerith turned towards the only spot of safety she could think of.

Setting Marlene to the ground, she took her hand; Marlene cried, pulling back, whining to go to the playground, and Aerith was charmed with the way her young mind could let the danger slip away do easily. Already, she could feel the familiar eyes, knowing perfectly well to whom they belonged, as she hustled Marlene through backroads and shortcuts littered with debris. Grateful no monsters appeared – for all her stated confidence, she didn’t want to face a fight with a four-year-old in tow. All Aerith could think about was moving faster, tugging Marlene along.

Marlene looked fearfully back as Aerith pulled away from the crowd, the playground, sniffling, a slight tremor wracking her body, the courage the little girl had held onto so far finally starting to fade. Aerith had an idea.

She crouched down to Marlene’s eye level. “You know, sweetie,” she told her gently, “It’s okay to be afraid. But I have something that might help.” Reaching up to her hair, her fingers dove below the ribbon for the sphere nestled within, drawing out its quiet warmth. “My mom gave this to me for when I felt scared. You can hang onto it until you feel better.”

Marlene took the materia in her left hand, her right hand still clinging tightly to the yellow flower.

“Do you like Cloud?” Marlene suddenly burst out.

Such a weird question. “I guess,” Aerith answered, noncommittally. “Why do you ask?” _I like Cloud._ So many ways that could be taken if she said it herself; how many were the truth?

Marlene just looked down at the flower; what she was thinking of, Aerith couldn’t guess. “I like Cloud,” she announced, half-triumphantly. _So does Tifa,_ thought Aerith. Í want him to be part of our family too!”

Hearing that hurt Aerith just a bit, for reasons she couldn’t clearly identify. Hurt, and warmed her too. _What on Gaia did that mean?_ She wanted to ask further, find out what it was that drew Marlene to Cloud - but instead fell silent, the two of them pressing forward with nothing but the yellow flower to keep them company.

_The flower, coming back home again,_ Aerith noted as they finally reached the familiar lane leading to her housed; her heart thumped ever harder as they drew closer to their goal, scared of what she might find at the end of the road.

She burst through her own door, reaching for Marlene to pull her inside as well. Aerith was greeted by Elmyra rushing down the stairs, startled by the commotion. “Aerith, what’s going on? I thought you were asleep, where did you come from – out of breath, no less?” Then she noticed the four-year-old at Aerith’s side. “And what’s this girl doing with you?”

“They’re going to drop the Sector Seven plate,” Aerith gasped out; she saw Elmyra’s eyes widen in alarm and horror – but there was something even more important than that. “Mom…” she began, nervous and slow. “This is... Marlene.”

Mother and daughter’s eyes met, understanding instantly crossing that bonded line. “Oh my goddess,” she gasped. Aerith nodded, trying to force down the lump in her throat that threatened to drizzle out into tears. The outpouring of emotion finally hit her full, and she grasped the edge of the table, wobbling slightly. She felt Elmyra’s hand on her shoulder, securing, soothing.

“I’ll get Marlene settled upstairs,” Elmyra told Aerith gently. “You look like you’re falling apart.” Aerith certainly felt like she was.

Turning to Marlene, Elmyra leaned over, placing her hands on her thighs. _I never got to hold Aerith when she was this little_ , Elmyra realized, and her mother’s heart ached with lost longing. Marlene, meanwhile, was openly gaping in all directions, as children do. “You have all those flowers outside…”

“We do,” Elmyra told the girl brightly. “And they look even better from upstairs. Do you want to see?” Marlene nodded. Elmyra reached down to scoop her up…

The knock on the door was the loudest softness she’d ever heard, and all three people inside looked up at once. Aerith knew exactly what it meant – she was endlessly aware by how fast they could work. Truthfully, she was surprised they hadn’t caught up to her sooner.

It had finally come. The danger that Aerith had feared when she made the most difficult decision a mother could make years ago.

There was nothing to be done, no way around it. Gathering Marlene behind her skirts, she turned to the sound. “Come in,” she called to the door, and it opened to that familiar face, the one that had been around for most of her life.

“Hello, Aerith,” he started, but there was something – different – in the way he greeted her, something not like before. _Authority_. As if she needed that extra bit to know why he was here.

Tseng’s infamous stare bore into her, and she returned it defiantly, daring him to be the first to speak. Turning half-behind, she saw Marlene, wide eyed and trembling. Her bracelets clinked together like a rattling chain as she reached down her hand; after a moment, the child reaches up her own small hand to intertwine with Aerith’s. Aerith felt the warmth of her small palm, hoping Marlene couldn’t feel the fear in her own heart and soul.

“Aerith,” Tseng finally began, “You knew this day was coming.”

She did. The attacks on the reactors, the plate dropping, jus t a few more small steps towards the inevitable. But the small complication she hadn’t, _couldn’t_ have planned on –

“You said I had to come in willingly,” she accused, but suddenly, with horror, it came together. _Marlene,_ she was young enough, too young, for them to need her consent – if they took her, raise her _inside…_ would they even _allow_ Aerith there with her? Would it be her own imprisonment all over again, she with her mother, or worse yet, Marlene there alone and unloved?

What would Ifalna have done?

The way Tseng looked at her – as if he could read her mind. Maybe he could. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you would do,” he replied, eyes tracing down to where the hands of woman and girl met. Was it her imagination, or did a small smile appear? Of amusement, affection even?

The unspoken understanding they’d shared through the years. Tseng, her old protector – was he in fact, looking out for her still – in whichever way he deemed best, she knew. A moment of connection that gave her hope.

“Perhaps I can offer you something in return.” He lifted one glove-clad finger. “Shinra wants to find the Promised Land. They need the last Ancient. That’s who I was ordered to bring in. But it you come with me, I could make sure that as far as Shinra….” He left the sentence hanging for a moment, allowing comprehension to sink in.

“There is no Marlene.” Tseng looked fiery, intently, into Aerith’s weakening resolve. “Do you understand me? _There is no Marlene._ ”

Aerith was wavering, Tseng could see. He’d watched Aerith grow up, wished better things for her, but her heritage doomed her no matter what. This was perhaps the one way he could obey his responsibilities and do the best he could for Aerith, all in one.

And pay towards that debt he had to Zack.

“So you see,” Tseng finished, voiced like oiled leather. “Your options are… very limited.”

_Beyond_ “very limited”. _Nonexistent_ , and Tseng knew that perfectly well. She glanced at her own mother; Elmyra’s face, stern and resigned, showed she had reached the same conclusion. “Give me a moment here?” she asked Tseng; the man nodded, stepping just outside the doorway. He had waited a long time for this. He could certainly wait five more minutes.

She knelt down to the child still quaking behind her. “Marlene,” she began sadly, “It was nice to meet you… but I have to go. For a while, anyway. You can stay here, okay? And you can take care of all the flowers for me in the meantime, okay?”

Marlene stared, melancholy, at the single bloom still crushed in her fist, then reached up to place it gently on the table. “Are you going with the bad people?” she asked Aerith. “Is Shinra taking you away?”

_Shinra_. Anger surged again. This young, and already Marlene knew. “For a little while,” she admitted. “But not forever.” _I hope._ “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she added, wondering if she was convincing herself.

Marlene pressed the materia into her now-empty spare hand, cupping it in both together. Staring deeply into it, Aerith wondered if Marlene could see anything inside, something she herself never could. “If you’re scared, then you need this back,” she finally said.

Wordlessly, Aerith took the orb- wondering, as she replaced it in her hair if she was giving away its existence to Tseng – then realized, as with most things, he probably already knew. _“Thank you,”_ she whispered, for so many things.

The word _goodbye_ hung in the air, no one wanting t o speak it. “She’ll be well-taken care of here,” Elmyra assured her, as if there could be any doubt. The silent missing words – _until you come back._

She hugged her mother tight, whispering, “I love you, Mom.” Elmyra gripped her fiercely in return, both wishing they never had to let go. But there was one moment Aerith wanted even more.

She knelt down to embrace Marlene, knowing even if she held her forever, it wouldn’t be enough. “Remember our secret,” she told her; that tie between them was all, for now, she could give

And straightening up, she stiffened her shoulders, bracing for whatever lay ahead. Tseng attended the door, gesturing like a gentleman for her to go forward. In the distance she heard the whirring blades of a waiting helicopter.

She let her thought diffuse into the air.

_Follow the yellow flowers…_

*******

Working in tandem, smooth as a dream - back to back, side by side. Upwards they climbed, sand-soft minutes ticking through frozen time. Climbing further than even the bravest residents of the slums had reached.

Biggs’s last words, surfing the edges of Cloud’s mind. _Not a fan of children? But you have so much in common._ But now… he had to be a man. For Tifa.

As much as he feared her in danger, there was as much danger below; at least here, under his watch, he knew she was safe. He always had one eye on her, passively admiring the force, the fury as she held her place beside him. He couldn’t afford to be soft. Not now.

Tifa fought her tears into focus, losing herself in the rhythm and comfort of familiar motion. Deep down, she was terrified, but Cloud at her side raised a reservoir of courage she didn’t know she had, and she knew she couldn’t, _wouldn’t,_ give in –

\- Until they found Jessie, crumpled and burned, pain lacing her expression.

As Tifa ran to her, Jessie’s eyes opened with obvious effort. Cloud was already picking her up with that gentleness he had deep inside, setting her down carefully, arranging her into a more comfortable position. Tifa knelt down beside her friend, tears filling her eyes unwillingly, even as she could hear Shinra still searching for them above.

“Hang on!” Cloud urged.

“It’s… no use…” Jessie forced out, lolling her head. “I’m… not going to make it.”

Tifa couldn’t find any words. She knew Jessie was right; it was a risk they’d all signed on for, but now, seeing the result before her... and with no time to waste, she was denied the last reminiscences the desperately wanted. _Another thing to lay on Shinra._ Tears were now openly streaming down her face as Jessie continued. “Shinra was right. We _are_ a menace. All those lives lost at the reactor from our dumb idea… it was my bomb. This is my punishment.”

Cloud clenched his first, angry at his uselessness. Helpless to save Jessie. Tifa buried her hands in her gloves, weeping openly. He didn’t know if he should touch her, say something – he only knew how to fight.

_Helpless to protect Tifa from tears._

“Death is the easy way out. Tifa – you’ve gotta make out… for all of us. To atone for our sins. You. And Barret.” He could hear Jessie’s breaths, labored, dwindling. “Barret’s still up there. Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

– and her head fell to the side, as her eyes closed, for the last time.

It seemed ominous silence hid all the sounds of Shinra above for a moment, as the only sound ringing in Cloud’s ears was Tifa _crying, crying._

He couldn’t bear to interrupt her, but moments later, he could see her forcing the tears away herself, wiping the last of them with the back of her glove. She raised her eyes to his, and for a moment they only looked at each other, seeing the same answer reflected in each other’s eyes. _She’s right – we have to go._

The thunderous pounding of bullets, only eclipsed by Barret’s roar, ever increasing as they fought their way further than even the bravest residents of the slums were able to go. Still further and further, finally bursting onto the open plateau crowning the pillar.

“You made it,” Barret roared, barely sparing a moment from riddling the helicopter above with bullets.

A figure dropped from the chopper - a familiar black suit, the same shock of red hair he’d seen at the church. Barret turned as Cloud and Tifa ran, but the Turk was faster, ducking from Cloud’s sword a splinter of a second after he’d pressed the button sirens began to blare from all sides, screaming at them to **_get out, get out_**.

“Fuck you, Reno. Turn it off.” Barret turned his gun-arm directly on the Turk; Reno laughed, knowing full well Barret couldn’t afford to shoot. Cloud held his sword raised and ready, sensing Tifa beside him, poised for attack as well.

  
The Turk only grinned, fierce and cruel. “Too late there, buddy,” he called back. “Doesn’t matter if you shoot me or not. Plate’s going down either way.”

“I oughta shoot you just on principle,” growled Barret, the sound of a second copter approaching trailing on the end of his sentence. They looked up…

*******

Inside the helicopter, another person she hadn’t seen in a long time. Last time, they’d parted friends. This time…

“Cissnei,” she greeted the other woman coolly.

“Aerith,” Cissnei returned, noticeably uncomfortable.

She wanted to ask Aerith so many things, but chief among them was - why had Aerith allowed herself to even get involved with AVALANCHE? Without knowing what she had been getting herself into – and the irony being, it was the attacks on the reactors that had made pulling Aerith in all the more urgent. _You foolish girl_ , she thought. Only hastening this day.

“Why did you – “ With surprise, Cissnei heard Tseng voice her own question.

Aerith turned her head towards the window, little except the brightest lights of Midgar visible through the dark-tinted windows. “You wouldn’t understand.”

_They wouldn’t._ The pull to Cloud – she still didn’t know. Everything else had just swept her up along with it, taking a gamble that didn’t seem heedless at the time, and in some respects still did not. Some things about him, so familiar – and some so unique.

_Aerith’s unanticipated ties to AVALANCHE_ \- The problem would resolve itself soon enough, Tseng hoped. He doubted they’d make it out. The two rebels, Marlene’s caretakers – a shame for the girl, but an acceptable loss. It would cut a dangerous tie between Marlene and AVALNCHE.

Safer with Elmyra, if still not perfect.

But he couldn’t help hoping Cloud would make it out somehow, if only to see more of him and solve this strange mystery. Under his lashes, he squinted a glance back at Aerith; now apparently lost in thought but if he knew her, still taking in everything around. _The two people most important to Zack._ Was there something more in this picture, something he was missing?

Cissnei couldn’t read her boss’s face; was he thinking the same things she was? How the Turks failed, the army beating them to Zack – how much might have been different. Did Aerith know about that? She shouldn’t, but with her strange abilities, one could never be sure.

The others, she worried about as well. What a strange series of coincidences had led Marlene to _Tifa –_ almost as unlikely as Cloud meeting Aerith. But that had happened too. Who knew a man from Corel would find himself in Midgar – _well, that was Shinra’s fault, wasn’t it really?_ – and meet a woman from Nibelheim. And the rest, as they say, was history. A history not entirely predictable, and Shinra at the start, she herself – _yes, you, Cissnei,_ she thought – playing a role in it all no matter how much she wished otherwise

Tseng, nonchalant, gave the coordinates – and Cissnei was surprised to realize they were heading towards Sector Seven. Aerith, a slum dweller, needed nothing more than the pattern of lights below to tell her the same. “The plate’s still there,” Aerith observed.

“Watch,” Tseng calmly suggested. Ordered, really.

Aerith knew there was something he wanted her to see.

He slid open the hatch; wind hit them with a blast, warm gunsmoke intermingled with cold licks. Aerith instinctively lurched forward, Tseng’s flash-quick grip on the back of her dress the only thing keeping her from tumbling out as the helicopter banked.

She couldn’t make out the figures on the pillar below at first, but as they got closer, she gasped in astonishment.

Below, in miniature. _Tifa. Cloud._ They had made it. And a third she knew must be Barret. Reno running from them as sirens blared all around, and she knew it had begun.

Cissnei, looking over her shoulder, felt her stomach drop. Cloud, she’d expected. But Tifa… _Tseng didn’t know about Tifa. Maybe if I had told him..._ Maybe if she’d told him Tifa would be that much more dead. How had Tifa made it here? Before diverting to Sector Seven, she’d been headed to Corneo’s.

Cissnei never thought she’d see the day she’d think Don Corneo’s was a safer place for a woman to be.

_Cloud, this is your chance to keep your promise. Get her out… if you’re some kind of SOLDIER now, I know you can…_

“Tifa!” Aerith screamed below; they’d dipped close enough for her to see the color of Tifa’s eyes. “She’s safe! I made it!”

“Aerith!” was all Tifa had time to shout back, before, with a sharp tug, Tseng yanked her back inside. The helicopter jerked away, heading for free air, and what Aerith knew waited for her above. Below, as the plate began crumbling, she saw Cloud grabbing Tifa, running to Barret – and she prayed to the Planet that they would somehow make it out.

Tseng at first said nothing as they flew away, Aerith losing sight of her friends as the explosions started. “There is nothing more that can be done,” he finally said, stone-faced.

“I know,” Aerith replied wistfully.

And as the last Cetra was whisked away to the Shinra building, she heard the structure creak ominously, and the steel sky begin to fall, the noise louder than even the loudest scream she had ever heard from the Planet –

…and it was to the Planet she prayed.

_Please, Gaia, let them have made it out…_

*******

Elmyra had expected Marlene to be inconsolable, shrieking after Aerith left, but instead, she bore the change in events with a fortitude that would have made Aerith herself proud. Still, the quivering of her eyes, tears just moments away from bursting, told Elmyra what a struggle the child had put up.

She wanted Marlene to know she wasn’t alone. “Do you want to come here?” Elmyra asked gently, opening her arms for an embrace Marlene could run into.

Marlene looked doubtful, but let herself be consoled anyway; she sniffed into Elmyra’s shirt. “Who are you?” she mumbled nervously.

“I’m Aerith’s mother,” Elmyra said gently. “Don’t you have a mother too?”

“I have my Papa. And Tifa. And I guess Cloud too,” Marlene replied.

“Tell me about them,” Elmyra urged.

So Marlene talked, and for valuable minutes her fear became distant, as Elmyra learned of the people who meant the most to the child. Cloud, she had met, but Marlene saw a gentle, kind side to the SOLDIER that Elmyra had been too angry to acknowledge when Aerith had brought Cloud home; now, she was sorry she’d been so blinded. Barret, her daddy, a man Marlene so clearly looked up to. And Tifa –

It was so strange, to hear the sound of another woman’s name, in conjunction with Marlene’s care; and it was this woman she wondered about most of all. “My daddy said we met Tifa two years ago,” Marlene informed her; but even so, that would be all of a child’s memories with this alternate mother figure. Slowly, she formed her impression sight unseen, wondering how it would compare to finally meeting the woman who clearly cared for Marlene as if she was her own.

Even thoughts of flowers could no longer distract Marlene; suggestions to go upstairs and see them were refused, Marlene staring instead at the front door. The aura of waiting settled over Elmyra’s little house, neither woman nor child able to do anything else.

For comfort, she rocked Marlene back and forth in her lap, relishing this rediscovery of something she had thought lost, but fearing the consequences. Marlene here, so close to Shinra. Exactly what she and Aerith had been afraid of. Part of her hoped that by some means she did not yet know, things could still work out for the best. But how that would happen with Shinra in the picture, she did not know. Unless Shinra was gone, Aerith would never be truly free.

Marlene was finally drifting off, exhausted; and still Elmyra worried. She wondered and feared what might happen to Aerith at Shinra HQ; hoping Aerith’s status would protect her. _Was she deluding herself?_ At least she’d be safe. Especially if they were truly going to drop the plate… she shuddered, hoping it wasn’t true, but in her heart, she couldn’t find hope, not really.

As if on cue, the sirens started blaring outside, and ELmyra KNEW.

Marlene woke up immediately bursting into tears. “Shssh,” Elmyra said, brushing Marlene’s hair. “Remember, Aerith told you there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s far away. It can’t hurt us.”

If anything Marlene sobbed even further. “My daddy’s fighting over there! Tifa too!” she forced out between unstoppable tears – and outside, those damned alarms still blaring.

_Fighting_? They’d be insects, against the force of Shinra. Elmyra knew that all too well. _Daddy. Tifa._ Those she had so wanted to meet – and now – would they even _survive_ this night? Marlene had come to the same, inescapable conclusion. “What if something happens? Where will I go?” – she half-wailed, terrified.

“You’ll stay with me here, as long as you want – “ she was in the middle of reassuring Marlene when she heard the deafening _crack_ – and she knew it had started. Marlene SCREAMED then, and Elmyra pulled her tightly to her chest, nothing else to do but pray it would be over soon.

Explosions and crashes resounded through the night, echoing off the sector walls and the remaining plate, as millions of tons of metal collapsed hundreds of feet to the ground below. Two sectors away, ten or fifteen miles - and still flashes of light reflected off the remaining plate above, striking out at crazed angles even into the low-light of the darkened house. She turned Marlene’s face between her breasts, urging her to _close your eyes, close your ears_ , as if there was any way to shut it out completely.

It felt like forever before the silence returned, even though Elmyra knew it must be mere minutes. The warning sirens were gone too; there was no one left to warn. Everyone else had escaped, or – _or –_

She realized in the quiet that Marlene’s cries were gone too. Looking down, she saw that exhaustion and fear had finally done their job, and Marlene slept soundly against her chest – though her little face contorted in worry, denying her the peace of complete sleep.

Elmyra took her upstairs and laid her down, covering her carefully with a blanket; Marlene snuggled into this new bed instinctively, some tranquility finally coming over her face. Leaving her warmly tucked in, Elmyra headed back downstairs, ready for her own bedroom in the back when she saw the single yellow flower, left on the table.

One of Aerith’s stargazer lilies. A symbol of reunion, Aerith had said; and tonight, a memento of a reunion she never expected to happen. Even with the field of identical blossoms outside, she couldn’t bear to let this one die.

Lifting it gently, cradling the stem and petals in both her hands, she placed the flower alone in one of Aerith’s many small vases; _Marlene could give it some friends later_ , she thought, filling the vase with water. It was slightly rumpled from the journey over, but Elmyra straightened out the petals, marveling how it had returned home relatively intact.

She hoped she could say the same for Marlene.

Climbing back up the stairs, she placed the vase near the edge of Aerith’s desk, where Marlene would be sure to see it when she woke up. Turning, she took a last look at Marlene, now resting calmly. Last traces of distress gone. Leaning over to kiss her, Elmyra quietly left the room.

*******

Above the plate, Denzel stared past the Shinra barricades, to where Sector Seven was gone, the tremors and quakes of the plate tearing away still echoing in his head.


	31. December 12 (PM) - Dece,ber 13 (AM), 0007

He watched.

_As Tifa ran for the console, she was suddenly backhanded by Reno and crumpled to the ground. Her plaintive cry had barely left the air before he was running to her, in one motion scooping her to sitting, his stomach dropping as she visibly winced. She fighting to stay alert, pulling herself up to a console that gave her no hope, only the deadly warning: **SEPARATION IMMINENT. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.**_

He waited.

_The helicopter bearing Aerith and the Turks swept away; Tifa could only watch it go. Debris larger and larger fell; Tifa swirled and ran to the opposite edge. Kneeling and staring down into the doomed sector far below, leaning over the edge in shock, deaf to the chaos all around. Cloud wished he could hold her, comfort her, but sirens desperately there wasn’t time._

_Action, that he knew. Yanking her arm, he jerked her forward with all of his strength, for once carless of whether or not he hurt her. Dragging her first behind him, then half-hurling her forward with an arm around her shoulders propelling her forward, they ran as one to the opposite side of the pillar, dodging fires now spurting from live wires everywhere, Barret shouting for them as he grabbed a pulley above him. They leapt as one, clinging to each other and riding the wire out just as the final alarm blared and they heard the piercing whine of metal tearing from metal, rising death and debris that missed them by the narrowest of margins as they careened away from the disaster._

Now he could only stare, having arranged her in comfort, placing one of her arms under her head, resting in some semblance of sleep. Relieved the worst danger was over, he hadn’t realized afraid he’d been, until she began to stir.

It took a moment for Tifa’s vision to come into focus, and Cloud’s face was the first thing that resolved – a welcome way to wake up. Less so… what _else_ she saw around her.

Rubble. Fires. Dusk-lit destruction already tickled by the fingers of dawn. All around, smoldering wreckage of what had just yesterday been her home.

_Her home…_

Behind her, Barret punched solid rock with his still-human fist – as if he could somehow bring their friends out of the wreckage and back to life. He screamed in frustration, shouting the names of the deceased to wind and dust.

Still woozy, Tifa began to pull herself up with difficulty, Cloud clapping a concerned hand under her elbow to help her rise. Idly, she realized they were in the same playground just outside the Sector Seven gate, where dressed up in a chocobo carriage, she’d passed by Aerith and Cloud – when? Hours, a day?

A lifetime ago. A lifetime that would never be the same.

In the not-too-far distance, she could hear the last refugees climbing out of the underground; she couldn’t bear to face them. Instead she looked from Cloud to Barret and back again. Last remnants of her lives both old and new, the rest ashes and crushed rock monoliths – but at least they were alive. How many others were not?

Jessie’s words echoed.

“MARLENE!!!” Barret cried out, pounding futilely on the debris.

Giving him a moment to calm, Tifa walked over to him slow, ashamed, as Barret's anger tapered into dry-heaved sobs. She placed one small hand on his back in comfort. “Barret… she’s safe,” she said softly.

Barret’s heaving breaths abruptly stopped as he turned to her voice. “Are you sure?” he asked, panicked. “How do you know?”

“Aerith –that was the girl in the helicopter. She came back with us – she’s the one I asked to get Marlene. That’s what she was calling out to me – that Marlene was _safe_ ,” Tifa emphasized. “SAFE, Barret, safe.”

“That girl?” Barret slumped. “And she got caught by Shinra… Just another thing to hold against Shinra. We gotta make them pay.”

Tifa only hung her head. “Yeah…”

He looked at Tifa. “Ain’t that right?”

She remained quiet for a long moment. “I’m just… not sure of my feelings. Not anymore.” _I got so fired up, and didn’t think through the consequences._ And look at the results. Sectors One, Eight, Five, Seven… she owed them all.

“Hold onto this anger,” Barret said gently, but still Tifa’s expression drooped, she drenched in regret for their lost friends. He looked at her familiarly, tenderly, she suddenly seeming small and frail next to his bulk. “They’ve returned to the Planet,” he told her solemnly. “We carry that weight.”

Cloud was left watching from afar as Barret pulled Tifa into a brotherly hug, forming a circle that he couldn’t be part of. As he watched from a polite distance, he found his respect for the other man growing – the man who had been there for Tifa all the time, sending him a belated thanks. _Where have I been?_ The fact that he didn’t know didn’t seem to matter – Barret left to do the job that _he’d_ promised to do. _Why wasn’t it him?_ As always, those questions left him unheard at best, another striking headache at worst. This, it seemed, was one of the better times.

Failing to be there for Tifa, now once again. Aerith, another failure just on the heels of Tifa – hadn’t he promised to be her bodyguard? Dumped her on Tifa, his other responsibility, no matter the need on the pillar. Split choices. Tifa. Aerith.

_Never any one right answer…_

He let Barret’s arm drop, and Tifa pull away slightly, before he finally spoke. “I should have put my foot down harder.” _It’s my fault…_

“We might not have made it back in time without her,” Tifa reminded him – but he was already turning to leave, led by a pull he couldn’t quite identify, even as he was sure he knew where it was leading him. He mused. _I might not have even made it TO you without her, Tifa._ Grateful and guilty all at once.

“And where do you think YOU’RE going? Barret shouted after him.

“Hopefully, to Marlene,” he called behind him, neither turning nor slowing. “Otherwise, I have some news to break to Aerith’s mother.”

*******

Cloud ran smoothly forward, even as he tried to tell himself he wasn’t as worried as the others – but still, Barret kept pushing _faster, faster_ to the edge of Sector Five, as the sun began to prickle its shanty rooftops, barreling through alleys barely wider than he was, held back by the mere fact that only Cloud knew where they were going. Finally, when they turned towards the shady lane towards the house Cloud had just left a sunset before, Barret couldn’t be stopped, shoving Cloud, even pushing aside Tifa, desperate with worry and eagerness. Cloud and Tifa ran behind, catching up just as Barret slammed through the door, ELmyra screaming as he frightened her half to death, roaring, “MARLENE! Is she here?”

“ ** _Barret_**!” Cloud and Tifa cried as one, and Elmyra’s head snapped over to the sound of their voices, tension dropping from her shoulders as she recognized Cloud, sword and all. She turned back to the man who had tanked through her front door so abruptly.

Suitably abashed, Barret cleared his throat and began again. “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said, substantially more calmly. “Marlene… she’s my daughter. Is she here?”

Elmyra took her measure of this man, Barret. _Another neglectful father_ , she thought angrily, her emotions irrationally lashing out at memories of Zack. _She was supposed to be far away from Shinra! How did she get to –_ nevermind. “And you left her all alone! A child! If it wasn’t for Aerith she would have been killed!”

“I know,” Barret hung his head in shame; Elmyra’s eyes hovered on him in maternal disapproval. “Thought I was doing the right thing, defending the plate. Didn’t really think Shinra would do it. I… didn’t think,” he admitted.

Elmyra just sniffed. “Whatever. She’s in the first room upstairs. Go be a proper dad.”

Barret nodded, taking the stairs with obvious restraint, now so close to his daughter. Tifa turned to Cloud. “I want to see her too,” she said, obviously relieved; Cloud nodded as he followed her, feeling… unexpectedly, jealousy.

_Barret and Tifa. Barret and Marlene_. It left Cloud feeling envious and craving – _something­._ Leave and never look back, he thought that had been the answer. But might it not be nicer to have something to come home too… He turned to Tifa. She, too, had things she couldn’t leave behind. Ties that held her together. What did he have?

Keeping promises. That was a reason to come back.

_Promises and mako were what he was made of…_

Tifa gently stopped him at Aerith’s door, leaving Barret a modicum of privacy while they watched from the sidelines. Barret gushed and cooed over his most precious one, his hulking form nothing but a teddy bear underneath, his love for his daughter openly flowing.

At Cloud’s side, Tifa looked at the girl, her eyes filling with the same love, emotion radiating from her; smiling, happy, she placed a finger to her lips, telling him to let the scene play out before them. For her sake – he was grateful that even amongst all this tragedy, she could still hang onto and treasure the family she had created – the most precious things saved, but he feared for when the rest of the loss hit her.

Leaving Barret to his daughter, Tifa and Cloud crept carefully back downstairs to a waiting Elmyra. Cloud’s eyes met hers. A moment of acknowledgement – she already knew.

“Shinra has my daughter,” she sighed, resigned and weary. “The Turks came here. She went with them… in exchange for Marlene’s safety.”

Tifa shifted uncomfortably. Feeling ever more guilty and depressed, she stepped forward uncomfortably. “This is all my fault,” she began awkwardly. “I’m – “

“Tifa,” ELmyra finished for her. “Marlene told me about you.” She absorbed her first impression of the closest thing the Planet had given Marlene to a mother, and she found that impression… favorable.

Tifa took a deep breath. Elmyra, Aerith’s mom, looking at her with warmth and welcome. It made saying what she had to say next all that much harder. _I just had to go running up the pillar, didn’t I?_ “I was the one who asked her to go get Marlene.”

“Don’t say that,” Elmyra soothed. _Tifa, you’ve done more good than harm, if you only knew…_ A revelation for another day. She sized up Tifa, woman to woman – gentle, kind. So was that Barret, as much as he might seem otherwise, all the concern she would expect from a natural father. Marlene, surrounded by good people; even Cloud, she hesitantly included in her thoughts, now more than ever feeling she’d judged the ex-SOLDIER too harshly.

_The price of strength._ Cloud. Zack. Roads taken they could never turn back from… she wished there was another way, that the road could end in happiness not heartache. If only experience had not shown her different.

Still… she was more glad than she could say Marlene had found herself among these people, wondering collectively about this strange surrogate family that Marlene had found herself in. Maybe, in the end, she was exactly where she needed to be. She hoped she’d have a chance to get to know them better… but that was for a later day. There were more urgent matters at the moment.

Emotional weariness caught up to her full force, and all energy drained from her as she sank to the table. “It was only a matter of time before she ended up back with them.” And a series of coincidences no one could have predicted. “She made her own choice – she’s always been like that. No changing her mind once she’s made a decision.”

She looked squarely at each of the three in turn, wondering if she was making the right choice. A dangerous choice. “If Aerith is going to be involved in your business… then I suppose it’s only fair that you be trusted with hers,” she began. “Aerith… is an Ancient. Possibly the last one alive.”

_An Ancient_. Cloud flinched involuntarily as Elmyra began. He was more and more amazed as the tale unfolded, somehow familiar, resonating with him. Barret sidled in as Elmyra spoke, Cloud hearing only a small scuff behind him to mark Barret’s entry. The three of them listened in rapt attention; to Cloud, it was all becoming clear. Aerith, denying why the Turks were after her, in order to hide her background from someone she’d only just met; Cloud could hardly blame her.

Elmyra had barely finished the story, but Cloud had already made his decision. “I’ll go after her,” he stated, determined. “She’s calling to me. I can feel it.” He _could_ , he realized; that strange resonance that kept echoing with ancient memories he couldn’t name.

Besides, he owed it to her. She hadn’t known what she was getting herself into; he still barely knew himself.

“We’ll all go.” Tifa turned to Cloud. “I’ve been a part of this much longer than you have. You can’t leave me out of this.” An exchange of looks, the meaning that passed between them clear. No leaving her behind – he understood. Once again he thought of how Tifa had changed so much into THIS Tifa, yet still, the core of her he’d known as a child, inviolable underneath. How could she do that when HE felt so different?

Elmyra’s eyelids dropped. She was too tired to argue with them; she couldn’t take any more tonight. “Are you really going to try and get Aerith back?” she asked wearily. “Out of the Shinra building and everything?” She felt a tensed coil, fear lacing up and down her spine, and her words came out choked. “I- I can’t lose her too. I don’t know what I’d do…”

“We will,” Cloud responded firmly. And as she saw their mirrored, determined stances, she knew they _would_ , and her gratitude for these people increased even further. “Stay. Leave tomorrow instead.” Elmyra glanced to the sun outside, just beginning to crest the cliffs that surrounded her house, allowing its rays for a few magical hours focused fully on the garden. It was like seeing Aerith’s bright smile covering the outside. “How long have you been without sleep, anyway? You can’t go without forever. I imagine you’re due for a full night and then some.”

Tifa was the first to open her mouth, thought they all looked ready to speak. Elmyra shushed them hastily. “I’m worried, but it’s no use if you try to get her back while you’re exhausted. She’s as safe as she can be under the circumstances.” Elmyra chucked bitterly, shaking her head as she slumped even closer to the table. “She’s too… _valuable_ for them to waste.”

Cloud saw Tifa nod, her weariness reflecting Elmyra’s; he placed three fingers gently on her back, turning her towards the stairs that Barret was already ascending. He exchanged a long look with Elmyra, and saw perhaps the first real sign of approval from her. Perhaps he could find his way into the good graces of Aerith’s mother yet.

Somehow, that seemed important.

*******

Tifa curled against Marlene, hoping the girl’s deep sleep would somehow transmit to her as well, but even as tired and emotionally drained as she felt, slumber eluded her. Nighttime outside – she’d been asleep for a few precious hours at least, crashing out while the sun was still high above the plate.

Turning, she looked towards the window – and then it caught her eye. The single bloom, its yellow color now silver-white in the light of the full moon, the moon shining on the garden just as the sun had earlier, bathing it in soft cool light. Alone, in a vase on the desk, looking rumpled but sturdy – Nothing to distinguish it from any of the other identical yellow flowers outside, but somehow she knew - Marlene had managed to bring it all the way from Sector Seven. The flower she got from Cloud.

The one blossom, all that was left of the bar. _Her bar._ Now, with the urgency over, everyone either saved or deceased… now, she had a few minutes for it all to sink in, and suddenly she was mourning her entire life. Her NEW life, the one she had to build up from scratch the last five years.

And now it was gone too.

Suddenly, the room’s air felt constricting, like a tight band of iron against her chest; she felt she could barely breathe. She got to her feet, sliding on her boots quietly, and with a glance at Marlene, checking if she was still sound asleep, she gently opened the door.

Cloud came awake with a jolt, years of trained military service bringing him to full awareness in an instant. Soft thuds, footsteps going down the stairs. The front door downstairs opened quietly with a click, and his sharpened hearing followed the sound as it tramped lightly into the garden.

Throwing his sword over his shoulders more out of habit than any real need, he stepped into the hallway to see the other bedroom door ajar.

As if he didn’t already know who he was looking for.

Impulsively, he climbed first upwards to the top story, and the garden view he’d seen before – but not at night. _This kind of beauty here in Midgar…_ crowned by the vision of Tifa there on the rise of a hillock in the center of his view, the streetlamp beside her giving her the ethereal halo of an angel.

In the middle of the carpet of yellow flowers, Tifa felt the night air crisp on her skin. Up the path, the crunch of boots she’d expected, approaching. She hadn’t seen him exit the house. Part of her wanted him to follow… part of her didn’t. The latter, the part of her still so confused about who he was and how she felt. Someone she’d know all her childhood, and…

_…it’s hard sometimes being old friends…_

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, closing in behind her.

“No.” She turned. “Sorry to wake you.”

…having those memories and expectations to weigh someone against… She had found him again, and for that she was grateful… but in so many ways, she still didn’t know WHO he was. How much of him was the boy she knew.

“What brought you out here?” he asked.

_…timing is everything…_

Time, so fragile, and she didn’t want to waste it – today had shown so well how things could be taken from you in an instant. She was only starting to realize how much she needed him. Part of her needing, wondering, _almost ready to say it…_

But now… she found herself staring at him, the one thing from her lost hometown that had come back to her, and now all she had HIM, all over again. The last remains of Nibelheim, and somehow, against all odds, he was _here_ –

\- and the memories, the tears, everything she was fighting back, came crashing down with all the force of the shattering plate, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m thinking about… reunions.” _Barret and Marlene_. She and Cloud. “What you have to hang onto when everything else is gone… dead and buried…”

She faced him fully now; he saw her tearing up, fist automatically clenching in frustration, for a sword he wasn’t holding to fight something that couldn’t be fought. “Like the bar… our home… and everything else…”

_Just a few words._ Hesitant, scared, but oh, she needed him now, and she took a few cautious steps forward, closing the gap that had been hanging between them. She opened her mouth, but found her head falling on his shoulder as she heard his sharp exhale; and the withheld sobs began in earnest. “They took everything from us… again…” she squeezed out before sobs wracked her body in full, the comfort of his silent solidity the only thing holding her up.

Tears wanted to come to his own eyes too; but he could find none. Her hands reached from him, fisting handfuls in his sweater as if there was nothing left to hold onto, as if he too would disappear if she let go. He felt so powerless. Helpless to stop her tears. Couldn’t stop Nibelheim. Couldn’t stop the plate. Couldn’t save Biggs and Jessie.

Why did seeing her cry feel like the biggest failure of all?

Beyond, the moon glinted on gently flowing water, giving it an aqua-lunar tint. _Not unlike Mako,_ he thought, not unlike the substance blazing through his own eyes. The same, only different. Beneath him, the flowers – _Fragile, yet resilient._ So like the woman before him – she had changed so much, made herself a new life, and here she was, _broken_ once again -

The warmth of her fingers burning through his sweater, close, _so close_ … closer than he’d ever been to her, and it frightened, _terrified_ him, but… his arms inched forwards awkwardly as if from their own accord and…

In an instant, he threw his arms around her, pulling her tight and hard to himself, setting his chin on her shoulder, enclosing her fully in the embrace. The leather of his gloves separating his skin from hers seemed very thin, even the brush of his bare arms above against hers enough to send his heart to pounding. But overwhelming it all he felt _tenderness_ , cheek furtively brushing her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder, and for that moment it was just she and him, survivors reunited.

He _was_ her home, he realized with a start, as she cried loudly into his chest, shoulders shaking. Her history. Deep inside himself, he made another promise. _I’ll be your home, somehow. You’ll have me… if you’ll have me._

Promises that tied him even when unspoken, chains of the heart stronger than any other.

“Cloud,” she whispered, strained.

“Hmm?” he murmured into her hair.

“Cloud, you’re hurting me – “ and he realized how fiercely he had been clinging to her, heedless of his SOLDIER strength. He practically leapt back, letting go abruptly - wishing he hadn’t as they separated and it was too late to take the moment back.

She wiped her eyes. She’d tried so hard to hold onto anger, but sadness got the better of her in the end, didn’t it? It made her feel silly, ashamed. “It’s stupid. I know that crying is a waste of time.”

He faced her square, softness in those strange glowing eyes of his, color matching the reflected pool below. “That’s not true.”

He wanted so badly to share what she was feeling. Experience it together. But the numbness still crept over him, leaving him wanting so desperately to _feel_ , emotion something that seemed to be mired in the depths of those missing memories. One more thing keeping him from understanding who he was.

She smiled then, just the barest hint of one, but it was enough, as she looked at him with those wide sienna eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and he _did_ feel the warmth in those two words, washing the night’s chill from his body as the two of them stood there, nothing but a moment alone at last.

*******

High in the tower prison that was the Shinra building, Aerith drifted in and out of sleep. Her home for the moment was a glass capsule, a stool inside and nothing else, keeping her in the stasis of boredom until Hojo came to inspect his prized specimen. She wondered if, when her mother came back crying every night after Aerith, alone, had been crying all day, if this was what her mother had endured.

She wondered if she was going to find out.

Devoid of more comfortable accommodations, she made the best of what she had. The tube’s environment, too sterile to connect with the Planet; lacking her usual foci, sleep was her one chance.

She reached out with her mind over tracks of dreams, for a while he awake and missing from her view. But with time – what else did she have BUT time? – and patience, she found the vibrant star she sought, a familiar signature that she’d hoped, even expected to find – and sure enough, with the help of the Planet, she touched his tumultuous soul.

Nevertheless, she was relieved. Waiting patiently in the simulacrum of her own garden created through the Planet – the wave of homesickness hit her, wondering if she would see it again, but she pushed it roughly down – she knelt, watched as Cloud’s own dream self made its way along the path towards her.

He confused, disoriented, understandably so. “How is this possible… is this a dream?” he asked, looking around in bewilderment. The image of her garden enclosed them both now, the yellow flowers reflecting the buffer that held them there.

_Yes,_ she thought. _No._ A dream that couldn’t be reality. Her emotions, raw, vulnerable with specters of what _could_ be, what she found herself _wishing_ could be, despite herself – when there were so many reasons why it could not.

“What do _you_ think?” she asked, wondering if her soul reflected her own right now. What hidden wishes of his own might lie within. “You tell me.”

He didn’t have an answer for her, but… dream or not, was it any less real? If he could see her here… Well. Maybe they _could_ reach her in time… the splash of hope he needed. “I’m worried about you.”

“Are you?” Her expression, uncommitted surprise, giving him little inclination what she thought of that.

He flinched. “Of course I am.” Most of the time, he felt just so purely _numb_ – but worry, fear, these he recognized. The drive to protect moved him when nothing else could – the part of himself he could be sure of.

_So many painful reminders,_ she thought. Every time he looked at him, even down to the way he stood before her now, hands on hips, confident, even cocky; a cover for the muddled man underneath. Reunion, but only with a memory. _Marlene_ … bringing up so much else for her, claws of desire desperate for someone to latch onto. A tempting attempt to bring it all back. She could let herself fall so easily… but that would be nothing but a fairy tale. And she’d learned the hard way that those didn’t come true.

She looked up above at the glimmers of Lifestream waving in the sky, the Planet’s thread that held her here for this ephemeral moment. Her hands joined together in gratitude.

_Zack. Marlene._ Her lost Promised Land.

She felt him behind her, the two of them in tandem, staring at the imaged river of life above. “Is that…” he asked in surprise.

_It is,_ she answered silently. _But you already know, don’t you?_ “We have to make the most of the time we have.” Bare moments with Marlene, each one golden. “To live our lives the way we want to live.” A luxury of timing, when time was the most precious thing of all. “Every minute… every moment matters.”

“I’ll remember that.” He knew that all too well. So many moments he’d lost in that blur of missing memories that still tormented him; now every experience, every FEELING was to be treasured – yet he couldn’t begin to make sense of what he was feeling right now. “You need to embrace this moment, right?”

She did. If only she could be sure what that embrace might entail. _Things that were uniquely CLOUD…_ Tense where Zack was talkative. Grudging where Zack was always ready to help. But then again, she wasn’t the same either, a faded version of herself to match his empty spaces.

_I’m searching for you…_

She felt _something._ But was that enough to call it love? She needed to see it through, find it out, but she was scared… it would be so easy for HER to fall… and there was Tifa… but whatever it was, like it or not, it was there.

For that much, for what he’d brought her, she gave thanks.

He took in her image, freezing it in time on this hill, remembrance of Tifa’s skin brushing his, she enclosed in his arms… The promise. _A promise to a friend that was harder than he expected._ Something that he couldn’t wish away, even though it tormented him, every tear of hers another failure. _Not much of a hero for her I turned out to be._

Aerith drew him in with possibilities… a clean slate. _Failure no more._ No burden of expectations or commitments. **_A chance to be a hero._**

The Buster Sword leaned heavily on his shoulders, as if pushing him forward with the weight of its burdens.

_That sword._ An object of her memories, leading her back in time; she let her head hang, staring at her boots among the flowers. With the past echoing in her mind, she looked him straight in the eyes. “Cloud,” she began, awkward – reluctant. For more reasons than one. “Whatever happens,” she continued, staring into those mako eyes of her memories, “you can’t fall in love with me.”

He gasped as if she’d struck him; and her heart dropped, knowing the truth. _He’d fall._ Not completely, but just enough to twist things in confusion. _Tifa_. Even as she cared so deeply, the other woman had her own weaknesses, her own blindness, things Aerith could see from a fresh perspective. Herself. Cloud. He didn’t know – didn’t know HOW to love, even as he desperately wanted to. _She needed to teach him how to love._ Marlene, the invisible fourth party. _Without_ costing _him love?_

_How on the Planet could this ever work out for them all?_ When was love ever simple? She reached out to touch his face, worry littering the landscape of her own emotions. “Because even if you think you have… it’s not real.”

The touch, forced false feeling – and as he tried to grab her hand in return, the sensation faded from her control, and his own glove waved through disappearing stars that had begun to ripple out of her. The Planet’s way of saying, _this would have to be enough, time was almost up_ ; as she stepped away, frustration crossed his face.

“Do I get a say in all this?” He wanted so badly whatever he had just felt. The need to be needed. The feeling of FEELING something, leaving behind a dead vacancy, he hollow once again.

“It’s almost morning,” she said, as much to the sky as to him. She turned to face him one last time.

“I’m coming for you,” he burst out, the force of another promise.

She looked at him with warm affection and sorrow, even shades of pity for the difficult path she knew he’d face; uncertain she could make it any easier. “If that’s what you want… then thank you.”

She left him with that, as the hillside faded away, along with green-mirrored eyes.

*******

Elmyra sent them off with warmth, Cloud grateful for the relieved tension, the woman now… accepting… of him. It was a start.

Barret thanked Elmyra politely, now all gentleman. “I hate to intrude further,” he began,” but do you think you could keep Marlene for a while? This seems like the safest place for her to be.”

ELmyra smiled. “I’d be happy to. In fact, I was already planning on it.”

“DADDY!!!” came the voice upstairs, as a frantic Marlene ran down, desperate to get between them and the door. “Daddy! Are you going?”

Barret sighed in reluctance; whatever they faced next, it couldn’t be harder than this. “He squatted down to look his daughter in the eyes; searching for the words to explain to a four-year-old a WHY she was so afraid of. “You see, honey, there’s these bad people trying to hurt the Planet…”

He whisked her onto his shoulder with his good arm, Marlene’s eyes, that so often seemed wise beyond her years, taking it all in. “…and that girl who brought you back. We have to help her too.”

“That girl…” Marlene considered. “She was kinda…” She was… she didn’t know. The magic things she had shown her. That girl felt like… like… like Tifa, a bit? Not just Tifa. Like her dad, too. Like… home.

“You should help her,” she told her daddy, and he nodded as he set her down. Slowly, all five of them trudged outside, the morning sun blaring.

“Promise you’ll come back?” Marlene said insistently; Barret looked at her, knowing he would make sure he did. “I promise,” he replied.

Marlene thought for a moment. “Okay, then. You can go.” Barret chuckled, and Elmyra drew Marlene gently to her with one hand, as they watched the others go.

And they were out of sight beyond the bend, leaving ELmyra and Marlene to look at the flower garden, now silent and peaceful once again. The older woman turned to the child. “Well, now it’s just the two of us and the flowers.

“We’ll watch them together,” Marlene replied. Inside, to the flower lady, she added, I promise.


	32. December 13, 0007 (PM)

The sun, still high in the sky on its downward path, making its full arc uninterrupted here above the plate. _How long had it been since she’d seen sun this way?_ Tifa asked herself.

It was near-blinding to her unpracticed eyes, but not enough to avoid the sight she really didn’t want to see.

Climbing above the plate had brought a different sort of light as well. Topsiders, their hopes, dreams, even lives crushed as recklessly as those of the slum citizens below; gathered in front of the frames of buildings barely standing, one crumbling a landslide down its front just as they’d walked by. They fumbled their way upwards through those fragile skeletons of the ruined sector, precariously riding on the layers of those entombed below. Apartment buildings scattered like candy, the plate as cracked as a dish smashed on the floor…. Beyond the walls dividing the sectors, the other parts of Midgar lay intact as if all of Sector Seven’s cries had gone unheard.

And every bit of it broke Tifa’s heart.

She froze the wreckage of Sector Seven in her mind, but the slippery thread of anger wouldn’t wrap around it. It was only sadness that she held in her hand.

Despite his admonitions to _keep on mission_ , Cloud’s eyes kept traveling to Tifa, thinking of the late hours of the night before, she turning to him in grief and pain as suddenly it all washed out, he standing helpless to stop the tide. Nothing to offer but... _himself._ Why had she turned to HIM?

What was she trying to tell me? _That was what Leslie had asked Tifa. With a start, Cloud had realized he was wondering the same – all those years since the promise – wishing he had scratched its surface further, hoping there was more below. His fourteen-year-old self, barely more than a child – too frightened that Tifa’s emotions might not match his own._

_And when Tifa had replied,_ We’ll meet again _, something clicked for Cloud – something he had started to truly feel in his soul only the night before. Inside a mirrored thought, a piece of the puzzle that was Tifa, something he hadn’t known was missing until it was filled._

Barret’s grudging apology after- it had been a backwards slap to begin, followed by the big man’s grudging admission he’d been wrong about Cloud, finishing by offering the olive branch of respect. Despite himself, Cloud felt his confidence boot by the other man’s acknowledgement, the willingness to set aside his former prejudices.

But ever more valuable was Tifa’s few words, spoken with sparkling eyes. “You’re really a pretty nice guy…”

Somehow, he’d managed to prove himself, and it wasn’t in the way he had expected. Yet his buoyancy still bore a hole he couldn’t identify at first…

_Jessie,_ he realized – that extra bit he couldn’t shake. Anchoring the tragedy of the plate with yet another rope. She’d said her parents lived on this section of the upper plate. Had they made it? Survived, only to realize their daughter was dead? Unlike Tifa, he hadn’t been able to shed a tear, his one-track mind already traveling to the conflict ahead – but her dying eyes haunted him nevertheless.

Was Tifa thinking of Jessie too? How was _she_ taking it? He stayed near her, just in case the loss reared its ugly face to her in a moment of urgency.

But Tifa showed no less dedication as they made their way further up; if anything, she was less distracted than he. Fighting, running from Shinra’s forces, meandering through the shell of a collapsed tower – a hundred, two hundred meters up. A staircase spiraled around the turret before them, Cloud flowing up the curve with the others following close. But, as they neared the building’s flattened top, other worries gripped him fiercely with their sharpened claws.

The panorama opened up before them. Tifa stopped. “Cloud…” she trailed off, eyes mesmerized by the view of the wreckage, visible in full from their high vantage point.

He turned, wind ruffling his hair in the breeze, the fresh air a welcome change – looking to where Tifa stood, her shining hair softly waving in the setting sun.

For the longest splinters of seconds, all she did was stare.

The warmth of Cloud’s arms around her, she could still feel like a ghost – that moment where she surrendered, relinquishing her sadness to him, a part of herself that was now theirs to share.

And now, here with him by her side – Despite all the churnings of her soul, she realized – _she was not afraid._

On her right, Barret’s cool solidity, contrasting the symmetric role of the two men in her life; and beyond out there, somewhere safe, there was Marlene, tying them all together.

“Don’t you EVER forget this view,” Barret finally broke the silence, anger subdued into solemnity.

She tried for the same, not to let the bitter enter her words. “I wish I ever could.” She paused, silent, desolate.

Barret’s tone further modulated. “We’ll build a new bar,” he said gently.

“Yeah…” she replied, morose, eyes full of a pain Cloud could never hope to reverse. “We will.” But as she looked back towards Cloud, sending him to pieces as only she could – he realized that despite all that had happened, she could still find a bright spark within.

“You’ll help, won’t you?” she asked him with her heart and eyes, the intensity near-impossible to bear. He averted his gaze, knowing she could see pain in there too, as he pulled a couple steps away, thinking.

He felt the temptation of running, weighed down by the simple fact of her eyes… but like a tug on a line, the promise pulled him back. He stopped.

“For a price” – he gave a nod – and for a moment, Tifa saw that aloof façade he struggled so hard to maintain – But she could see beyond it, and smiled a simple disarmament; before he could fake it again, she glimpsed the same in his eyes, the invisible smile within.

It wasn’t a price. It was a promise. A promise he would be there… once he hadn’t been, but now he was making up for it, time and time again.

She knew – he’d keep his promise.

_We’ll meet again._

With that thought the shining star to guide her, together they grappled to the next platform above, a sharply slanted slope – and suddenly a monstrous mech they’d spied earlier lurched up to face them, hovering in the air with its central laser gun staring them down like a single Cyclops eye.

Frozen in shock, Cloud’s voice finally broke the spell. “RUN!” he shouted –

Urgency drove them up the slanted slope, a hail of bullets raining down where they fled without cover – with a giant leap to ever more higher ground, they struggled to their goal, so close, one level more above –

Nowhere to run. Shinra’s weapon rose to meet them, the only remaining obstacle between them and the top.

Cloud readied his weapon, knowing both Tifa and Barret had his back – and realized, to his surprise, he trusted both the same. How far their team had come…

Fluid as a dream, they worked together to take the robot down, until it retaliated with another spray of bullets. They dodged, leaping to another platform as Cloud found himself separated by a gap from the others, they all balanced on perilous, narrow protruding beams.

Across the gap, he saw the ground fall out from Under Tifa’s feet, and as she slammed back down, she was already sliding –

Without thought, he shot the grappling gun to a support as he heard her call his name, launching himself into empty space, scooping both his allies off the broken beam and swinging them back up to safety.

And STILL she wasn’t ready to give up. They had barely tumbled back to a solid surface before she leapt back to her feet, rejoining the fight as if she hadn’t been dangling in the air only moments before – lasers, launchers, nothing fazed her, until it finally tumbled to the unstable surface beneath them.

Cautiously approaching the damaged mech, a memory of the Airbuster itching him, and it blinked once, twice –

He barely had time to curse before the explosion, and the ground was breaking into squared metal boulders beneath them, crashing to the rubble below – he slid down towards her with horror, seeing her sail over the edge…

He leapt into the air without hesitation, one arm whipping around her waist with SOLDIER-precise aim, in the same instant the grappling gun out and shot secured above. As it reeled them briskly upwards, Barret rolled over the edge as well; Tifa’s free arm shot her own gun to his plummeting figure, and with an amazement of luck he caught the end. The motors’ force whipped the two of them up and onto solid ground, and without a thought, Tifa whirled around, Cloud grabbing her to help pull Barret up as well, their combined strength finally flinging the large man over their heads and tumbling Tifa backwards onto her rear.

Shock crossed her face as she realized –

\- they were all alive.

And before she even knew she’d fallen, there was Cloud, offering his hand, bringing her right back up again.

She, in turn, helped Barret to his feet, more for emotional support than any need the man had for her strength. Turning as one, they saw Cloud staring up and ahead.

Like a monster creeping up from the dark, the tower loomed before him, running chills up and down Cloud’s spine. _One man versus a giant._ The weight of the Buster Sword at his back seemed to be the only thing holding him up; he reached to grab onto the familiar hilt for courage.

But even more than that, the footsteps of Tifa and Barret clanging on the grated surface behind him reminded him he was not alone.

His eyes trailed involuntarily up the façade, pausing at the very top. _A prison,_ he thought. For Aerith that was certain – and who knows how many else – the employees, the city’s population, all slaves to Shinra in one way or another. The mood was only heightened but the sun gone now below the horizon to the west, the tower ever more ominous with the missing daylight.

And Cloud felt it calling to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here it is! I usually hate those “sorry it’s been so long since I posted” author notes, but in this case there were extenuating circumstances (medical, NOT Covid-related). I expect to be on back on track as before…


	33. December 13, 0007 (PM continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for mild hints of non-con (technically it is canon, Hojo considering breeding Aerith with Sephiroth or another SOLDIER).

The entry to the building, sinister in its emptiness. Disquieting. Where _was_ everyone?

“Busy upstairs,” Barret answered Cloud’s unvoiced thought. “No reason to expect attack. It’s the fucking _Shinra building_ , after all. What, are people going to climb up the broken plate to get here.” He laughed, the sound a booming echo in the lobby. “We can take the elevator right up.”

Memory vaguely brushed Cloud, he trying to remember the last time he stepped through these doors. _Since leaving for Nibelheim_. One thing he knew for certain – he’d never come back after that fateful day… he glanced quickly at Tifa for a reminder.

He shook his head uncomfortably. Where he’d been since then… still a mystery. _Nothing to worry about now. Focus on the mission instead_. He steeled himself back to serenity.

“Where is she?” fretted Tifa. “How will we find her?”

“A research facility, I’m thinking,” Cloud replied. “Somewhere near the top.” He paused, voice lingering, almost ethereal, as he raised his head. “Yes… that’s where you are…”

The pull – the call – stronger here. _Aerith._ He could lift a finger and point right to her, like a blazing light. But underneath it… a cold purple of fear intermingling, contrasting shades fighting for the loyalty of his mind.

So many nagging thoughts, with more rising up by the second. Numb for so long, suddenly he found himself with TOO many feelings, and he so unpracticed in experiencing any of them. Whatever previous experience he’d had with women, it really should have made him at least less – _stupid_. He reached back, trying to recall those early lessons of his young male mind, but reached a block – _how_ had he garnered those experiences? He remembered, vaguely, that they’d happened, but not how he’d arrived there.

Nevermind. AERITH. His other responsibility, but wasn’t it more than that which was wrecking his head right now? Again, he flashed back to the night before, this time to her odd warning, the word _love_ hanging there, dangling like a carrot before him… and he found himself troubled even more as thoughts of Tifa crept in – somehow it didn’t seem right thinking of one woman so close on the tail of the other.

“Elevator to the top then. Let’s go!” insisted Barret. “No time to waste!”

Tifa glanced around them nervously. Barret, ready to barrel in once again, and her job to remind him, sometimes stealth was the better course of action. “Not the elevator, Barret,” she argued. “The stairs. There must be an emergency stairwell. Much less chance of getting caught there.” Behind her, Cloud shifted one foot to the other, giving a near-imperceptible nod, subtly agreeing.

Barret deflated, reluctantly. “You got a point, girl. Spikey, I’ll defer to your judgment.”

Cloud straightened, suddenly back in focus – how much of them had actually been with them just now? “Yeah… Tifa’s right.”

He’d been so strange since they had entered; even earlier, just as the building had come into sight. Cloud, a touch of dreaminess uncharacteristic of the man, contemplating something she couldn’t ascertain. The mystery that was Cloud, and she couldn’t help but think, somewhere in the building, there might be some answers.

Tifa thought for sure he was going to change his mind when they finally found the stairwell in question, and looked up to dizzying heights. “Oh, you have GOT to be shitting me!” he groaned to the staircases disappearing into blackness above.

Tifa couldn’t help but feel much the same. Hundred s of meters climbing the plate, and _now_ – she realized, staring in awe – they were planning to climb hundred of vertical meters more? Sourly, she wished there was a reasonable spot to use those grappling guns, but they were in far too close quarters. However, despite her reluctance, she still felt committed to this path, confident it was the safer choice.

She heard Cloud chiding Barret, but she had already started up the stairs full speed, thankful for her slender athleticism as Barret, even Cloud fell rapidly behind. Breezing up with a comfortable lead, she was trailed by their grumbling, stopping periodically to call back down and urge them to keep trudging upwards, even as they whined and bickered with each other.

_Some things between those guys will never change_ , she thought, remembering back to after the Reactor One bombing – was that really only days ago? But now, she couldn’t help but feel a wry tinge of affection, knowing there was camaraderie underneath the jest.

As they forged up and up, with no end in sight – only the numbers of the floors at the identical landings teasing them with their slow count – she finally DID start questioning her own decision. But as she tried a few of the exit doors, finding them all locked on this side, she realized there was no choice. Breathing hard, feeling her muscles burn and slow, she wondered how dangerous the other way really COULD have been.

Cloud seemed subtly distracted, in a way that might have gone unnoticed had she not become so practiced in observing him. She wondered if he himself was aware of the way his eyes twitched upward, an aberration in his otherwise-cool composure.

It made her wonder and worry what lay ahead. Finally, she reached the top, bending to stretch and catch her breath, waiting for the others, they following her lead gratefully, the signs of fatigue obvious. Slightly refreshed, she placed her handle of the door to the 59th floor, feeling a small burst of relief to find THIS one was unlocked – and as the door opened, she pulled up her courage to step through , ready for whatever lay on the other side.

*******

He’d asked her to call him if she ever needed anything.

But he’d only just learned… she was in a place she couldn’t call. A place he didn’t want her to be for long. He didn’t know _exactly_ what Shinra wanted with Aerith, but he’d been able to hack some of what had been done with Ifalna, and he wanted Aerith no part of it.

That discovery, she here in the building itself, had been surprise enough – but even more so was how easily he had found out. It was as if the Turks weren’t concealing her presence at all.

Nevertheless, that gave Kunsel an opportunity at long last to help her. For Zack’s sake. For Zack’s memory.

He was trying to find a way past Hojo’s notorious security when the troopers came to him with an urgent message. _Zack?_ was his first sudden, vain hope, the words of the two grunts tumbling over each other as they tried to tell him about a SOLDIER in the building. _Zack, here to save Aerith?_ But as he pieced it together, his hopes were dashed again, as they described a man who most certainly wasn’t his old friend.

But the name… _Cloud. Cloud Strife._ Certainly not anyone who had ever been in SOLDIER; he knew every name in the roster, both past and present. Still, the name tingled with familiarity.

He finally put it all together when the trooper mentioned having met this man in basic training – seven years before. CLOUD. That was the name of that young trooper buddy of Zack’s wasn’t it? The one Zack wanted to sponsor into SOLDIER? He’d never had a chance to meet the kid.

Then suddenly, he realized where _else_ he’d heard that name.

He’d been on that mission with Zack.

He’d been one of the two infantrymen reported killed… his name, that of a simple grunt, not every worth a mention in the email.

But here he was, alive and well, and somehow presenting as a SOLDIER. It made him wonder further… what had happened in the last five years?!? Kunsel was too disillusioned to believe in coincidence. First Aerith’s capture leaked so easily? Now a friend of Zack’s showing up out of nowhere? How did it all fit together?

Could Zack Fair be… _alive?_

*******

Tifa pressed very near behind him as they crawled through the vents. He couldn’t say he entirely minded. Besides the reassurance that she was near and safe, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Barret, left behind standing guard in a men’s bathroom of all things – but Cloud was grateful for the opportunity for stealth.

Especially considering what they were overhearing from the meeting below.

A bare change in air pressure - one anyone without Cloud’s heightened senses would be insensitive to – marked Tifa’s miniscule stiffening, as they heard the board’s casual dismissal of Sector Seven. Condemned, not to be rebuilt, the one man – director of city planning? – shot down when he showed the only ounce of conscience there seemed to be on the Shinra executive board. But he could practically taste both their stomachs dropping in tandem as that disgusting creature Hojo, with his penchant for treating humans as nothing but numbers and meat, tabulated their heartless plans for Aerith, projections of her capabilities and how they could best use and abuse them.

_Breeding._ That was the idea that left Tifa particularly sickened, even after Hojo’s suggestions of psychological torture. Aerith, she cried silently, wishing she could somehow reach out to the other woman, _feel_ her, send her some hope. She involuntarily glanced at Cloud. To be forced to bear a child of a man she didn’t choose – children should be born of love. Aching, she thought of Marlene – he child through love if not blood. To have that stolen from you – it touched a deep part of her that even the wholesale destruction of the slum sector hadn’t reached.

The board stood and departed, and as soon as they felt they could safely retreat, they crawled awkwardly in reverse, as quietly as they could, while still rushed by the need to follow Hojo.

_The professor_. He had Aerith. He was the key to it all.

_That son of a bitch._

Tifa carefully dropped to the ground, Cloud right behind her. Her emotions, raw in her throat, threatened to get the better of her, making her grateful for Cloud, focused firmly on the mission ahead. His eyes met Barret’s; a look exchanged, right to the point.

“So?” Barret asked.

“Hojo. Head of R&D. We follow him.”

Barret nodded, and they were off.

*******

Tseng knew.

He’d never been invited to the board meetings. He didn’t need to be. Bugs he’d planted in all the offices and conference rooms – that it had never occurred to anyone might be there.

Still, sometimes the direct approach was called for, as he pressed himself against the pillar, immobile. A perfect position to eavesdrop on Hojo mumbling his twisted plans, wondering at the arrogance of the scientist, so sure no one would understand or challenge his goals.

He’d already been prepared to be sickened, but this was worse. What he’d wanted to spare that little girl and her mother when he helped them escape. _Breeding_ her like livestock. He’d once offered her marriage, then watched over her and Zack together, protecting Aerith’s secret after Zack disappeared at Nibelheim – vanishing into the clutches of this same twisted “scientist”. All those risks he’d taken to give Aerith the chance to be her own woman – a MOTHER, even – on her own terms.

Too bad it hadn’t worked that way. Tseng, the one responsible for killing her chance once again - his only consolation, the knowledge that Aerith understood as well – there _were_ no other options. Her heritage doomed her.

Perhaps there was a light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel The rumors had already drifted to his ears – _Sephiroth_ in the building. Tseng had his doubts, but what that could mean – he couldn’t avoid the fear for Aerith, of her being _raped_ by the SOLDIER, forcing himself and his genes on her.

But meanwhile, the building was left in some confusion with the fall of the plate, and the rumors would only make things more chaotic. As always, his mind was churning through the ways he could best turn the situation to his advantage. The irony did not escape him that, by bringing her in, he finally had a chance to grant her freedom, just a slender chance, but he was willing to take it. Turks operated on a razor’s edge in the first place.

Reno and Rude had already been sent to retrieve the Vice President, the call arriving in a remarkably… timely… manner. Though his loyalty had long been tied to Rufus, he’d make sure that Aerith got out first. As Hojo turned into the stairwell, Tseng saw, following at a distance, exactly who he’d hoped and expected to see.

_Cloud._ The one man who might be able to get Aerith out. In the meantime, he’d do his best to make sure Cloud reached her.

He’d only gotten the reports from the other Turks, and a bare glimpse of the helicopter hovering at the doomed pillar; this was the first real chance he’d had to see Cloud Strife in the flesh. In the company of those two AVALNCHE terrorists; it seems they had all made it out. But as Tseng squinted for a closer look, he was… disturbed… by what he saw. A memory flashed, of a young, enthusiastic young man in Modeoheim, starstruck with possibilities but brave and determined. How different was the man before him now.

Cold. Arrogant. Every bit a SOLDIER, just like Sephiroth.

How could that genuine teenager have changed so much?

Tseng’s strategy now was simple. _Passivity._ The Turks’ priority was the VP; they wouldn’t be there to ensure Aerith’s captivity. Hojo was on his own there.

For the rest, he was betting on Cloud. The man who had killed Sephiroth…

…or so he had thought.

*******

Cloud was afraid.

A different kind of afraid from that horrible movie, or vision, or whatever it was, seeing Tifa and Barret slain at the hands of Sephiroth. That had been the sheer terror at the thought of losing those he cared about.

The chilling sight of Tifa’s beautiful face, Sephiroth behind her, just before he found her crumpled to the ground… would be haunting his nightmares.

This, felt like sheer cowardice, but he couldn’t keep his body’s automatic recoil from the scientist, shrinking back into the shadows and allowing Barret to barge forward. The big man was the one who confronted Hojo, bludgeoning him to _move,_ to take them to where Aerith was held. Cloud lagged behind, poised and anxious, that _pull_ stronger with every step.

_Hojo_. Cloud must’ve met the man somewhere before, but couldn’t pull up any recollection of him. And he was sure he would have remembered that sense of something so thoroughly WRONG that emanated from the man – a near-inhuman feeling he couldn’t quite explain. Even with the barrel of Barret’s gun shoved against his back, he seemed nonplussed by the threat to his life, imperiously self-assured. Cloud didn’t want Aerith alone with that… _creature…_ any minute more than necessary.

The scientist bore Barret’s aggression with nonchalance, but it took only a split second for the man to retaliate; a disgusting monstrosity released, a bare nuisance of a fight, but enough to leave a moment for the scientist to flee from their clutches. Following belatedly his escape path, the elevator had barely opened up before they were running down the gangway, bursting into the main room.

“AERITH!” Cloud called as they caught sight of her, and she leapt to her feet, pressing herself against the wall of the glass container that trapped her.

“You came for me!” she shouted, her voice clearly audible despite the barrier.

And from above, they turned to see Hojo in his high castle – arrogant, sinister, as he coldly watched the scene.

This time, Cloud gathered his courage, staring Hojo right in the eyes, challenging. Hojo returned the stare with the detached observance of an interesting specimen, as Cloud swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, the nausea of both fear and anger intermingling.

And then Hojo only _laughed_ , a sound not of mirth but of scorn. Cloud’s eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword clenching tighter.

Aerith watched Cloud across the room, fearful, as Hojo stared at him with scorn. She’d felt him coming nearer to her, gently caressed his soul as best she could, the sensation a comfort in her terrifying aloneness… But she’d seen as well, the flaws beneath his surface. _Cloud, don’t try, not yet… you’re not ready._ Fragile cracks that might break beyond repair, his mind so much more delicate than his body. The thin curtain of glass before her felt miles thick. “CLOUD!” she shouted, panicked, bringing him back to the present.

“Barret!” was all Cloud needed to say, and the other man nodded. “Stand back,” Barret warned Aerith; she nodded, stepping away from the lock, right before Barret blasted the lock to shrapnel. Aerith gaped wide-eyed as the door sprung open before her.

Recovering quickly, she tore out of her cell, taking in her first view of the Papa Marlene had so affectionately described. “Thanks for saving Marlene!” was all he had time to toss over his shoulder, as a round of Shinra’s super-troops poured in to attack. Quickly dispatched, Tifa broke free first to run to Aerith; the other woman warmly greeted her friend, relieved and grateful to see her once again.

Readying themselves to escape, they were interrupted by a strange red animal, suddenly tearing in front of them and stopping to give them a growl of menace.

The creature, tail trailing a tip of pure flame, shattered through the window where Hojo had so recently been seen, following to the exit route he had fled through in the confusion. The four of them paused, stunned.

Aerith stared for a moment after it passed; she’d felt the briefest flash of… affinity? Almost familiarity. A strange bond of sensation, not quite the same feeling as a Cetra, and yet… not quite not.

She thought she might know what it was, but there was no time to analyze it now; abruptly, she shook it off. “We have to go,” she urged, following the feeling. Climbing stairs and turning into a long passage, they arrived to see Hojo disappearing into an elevator at the end, the red creature tearing full speed after him only to slam into closing elevator doors, missing the scientist by inches.

It turned back angrily, loping casually back to the group of humans. Barret raised his gun, threatening, but Aerith motioned him back, as she approached the creature with the surety of absolute safety.

She reached out to touch his mane, his head, craving whatever was to be found there; and suddenly, she KNEW – a different kind of power that could be uncovered, but not so terribly unlike her own. _Guardians of the Planet,_ the answer whispered to her from across the Lifestream. She felt the answer from the other being’s soul, and knew they understood each other.

She stepped back, the only one unsurprised as the creature, identifying himself only as Red XIII, began to speak.

Cloud was only half-paying attention. The Pull to Aerith had calmed, now that she was safely with them once again, but that _other_ tug, colder, harsher, was prickling needles into his brain. Vision began to swim, and he found himself drifting off as if into a strange dreamworld, his body moving as if outside of his control, one step after another – a shuffling gait proceeding forward as another, distant part of him tried to fight back.

Blood coursed painfully like acid in his veins, heart minding in tandem with his brain. Echoed choices of hidden memories, disembodied from context and meaning – and suddenly he SAW –

Twin voices of frightened caring, calling his name in tandem as the world grew dark and he felt himself collapsing to the ground.

One word in the blackness –

_Reunion._

*******

His eyes opened slowly, reluctantly, to see the face of an angel.

Tifa, kneeling over him worry creasing her brow. Where was Aerith, he wondered, his last recollection their simultaneous cry of fear? Barret? Red XIII?  
  


Dimly, steel walls hazed into being before him. “Finally,” Tifa breathed, features relaxing somewhat. “You’re awake…”

He shook his head slightly, hoping to clear the remaining fog, but the blank metal wall was before him still. “Where are we?” he finally asked, although the answer was already coming together before his eyes.

“The Shinra cells,” Tifa told, him, the fear in her eyes mixed with worry for him. He forced himself to a sitting position, wanting to give her that least little but of reassurance that he was fine, to put at least one of her worries to rest. “We’ve only been here a few minutes.” She saw the questions running across and through his expression. “You… just collapsed, and then Shinra’s troops swarmed over us… without you, we didn’t have a chance.”

_The cells._ Strangely, Cloud wasn’t especially concerned. _We could have found ourselves in the lab,_ he realized, a flash of unaccountable terror gone as soon as it had shown its face. He looked Tifa straight on; hard enough to see Aerith trapped that way – what if they had _all_ been ensconced in those lonely glass chambers? Come to think of it, why _hadn’t_ that happened? Since when had Shinra denied Hojo any of his pet projects?

But as he mentally mapped their location in the building from passing recollections and barely-noticed details, he realized the truth of it.

These weren’t cells…there were specimen holding containers.

Tifa still started back at him, hopeful, expectant. He didn’t want her to be a moment longer than they had to be.

Abruptly, he realized he was sitting on the only cot, while she knelt on the cold metal floor, nothing protecting her but the thin fabric of her stockings. He reached for her hand, tugging her gently, the other hand patting the cot next to him. Motioning her to sit as he stood, he slowly paced the perimeter of the cell, examining the door in particular.

“I’ll get us out of here,” he said, turning back to be rewarded by her eyes lighting up in relief. Truthfully, though, he had no idea HOW he was going to do that, devoid of his weapon. He looked down to Tifa’s hands – she still had her leather gloves, though the materia had been removed.

He’s be much less of a help that _she_ at the moment. Hell, disarmed, he was probably the most useless of any of them…

Speaking of… “Where ARE the others?” Aerith. He was supposed to be protecting her…

“They shoved Barret and Red in the last cell of the row – “ she motioned to the wall behind her – “before pushing the two of us in here together.” She didn’t mention the crude suggestions the troops had offered up with it. “I’m assuming Aerith is in the last one.” Neither of them wanted to mention the alternative.

Moments ticked by, Tifa idly tapping her feet in boredom. Glancing around the room , he spied a small vent, just above his reach, but enough to let air – and sound – flow through. He tilted his head upwards. “Aerith,” he called. “Are you there, Aerith?”

“Cloud?” her voice, faint but audible. “I knew you’d come for me…”

She could almost hear him smiling. “Hey, I’m supposed to be your bodyguard, right?”

It was so jovially unlike Cloud that Aerith giggle despite herself. “Besides, I still have to pay you back with a date, right?”

“A date?” Aerith heard a familiar female voice from the same direction as Cloud’s.

“Tifa… you’re there too?” she half-squeaked, Aerith was… _mortified_. It had been nothing but a silly bit of flirtatious curiosity – at best, a way to pas s the time, at worst a messy confusion she still didn’t understand… she could feel her throwaway remained gaining weight with the presence of Tifa in the other room.

Could practically smell the hurt filling a woman she wanted to call her friend.

Silence reigned at first, until Barret’s booming voice carried to her from two cells over. “Aerith, that you?” he called. “I can hear you just a little bit.”

“I’m here!” Aerith called back, grateful for the interruption.

“Good to hear, girl,” he chuckled. “I still owe you one for Marlene. But hey, while we’re stuck here… I’ve wanted to ask you… so, uh, Red here has been telling me some about the Ancients. You’re one, right? The last one, your mother said?”

In the middle cell, Cloud only stared confused, clueless as to how the exchanged had soured. Tifa awkwardly leapt on the change of subject, even as the thought nagged in the background. _Was there… something… between him and Aerith? Was she just making a fool of herself with one-sided affection?_ “Yeah, I’ve wanted to ask too. What does Shinra want with you? Why were you in that tube?””

“What do they think you can do for them?” Cloud added.

Aerith thought back to her mother’s voice, never fading through the years, quietly soothing her from the Lifestream. _Find your own promised land._ “We can sort of… speak with the Planet.” Blood, yes, but something of life and love as well, refined to perfection among her tribe, perpetuated through her ancestors by virtue of their insularity… at least until her mother could find no other life herself. “It’s hard to hear in Midgar, though – too much noise in the way.” The church, the one place where she felt so much closer. “It tells me to find the Promised Land.”

“Promised Land?” Tifa asked.

“A land filled with Mako,” Barret answered for Aerith. “A fertile playground for Shinra’s greed.”

“And they think you can lead them to it?” Tifa reasoned. “But… can you?”

Aerith’s laugh held an edge of bitterness. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” she told them. “But it’s not that simple. It’s something you find inside yourself. “

A long pause; Tifa heard the quiet of sadness. “I’ve been searching for it for years…” Aerith continued, more subdued. “But… I can’t find my way. I’m trapped in a maze, and every step takes me further from the path…”

In her own lonely cell, Aerith found herself fighting sudden tears, those that were always there just below her cheerful surface. In a whisper too low to travel to the others, she told herself, _follow the yellow flowers…_

A sudden vision, a stargazer lily, its petals falling away and disappearing into the blackness – a symbol of all her heartbreak. She was disconnected, unmoored – was it all futile? Would she end up hollow and broken as well?

Tifa gently nudged Cloud away from the vent, pushing herself in.”Aerith,” she called, soothing. “Let’s find a way out together.”

Aerith found herself only tearing up further, touched by the woman’s kindness after her faux pas. Offered not for the link that drove Cloud, but simply from Tifa's own heart, sourced from her own personal resonances and motivations. “Thank you, Tifa,” she replied with utmost sincerity, and a silent blessing at the end. _I hope you find your Promised Land too…_

A cough, and Red’s low, dignified voice, silent until now, traveled to her, trailed by just the slightest of echoes. “There does not seem to be much we can do about our situation at the moment,” he intoned. “Might I suggest we get some sleep?”

Cloud stared at the door, eyes boring into it as if he could open it by will alone. But oddly, his eyes seemed focused on a point beyond; she wondered what it was that drew him, even more so after his strange breakdown in the lab.

No answers were forthcoming. Sighing, she leaned back, closing her eyes and willing herself to slumber.

******

Everything had been happening at once tonight. Rumors of a rogue SOLDIER in their midst, commotion in Hojo’s labs, and now… Palmer claiming to have seen _Sephiroth_ , of all people, back from the dead.

It couldn’t be. Cissnei had been there when Cloud had killed him.

_Cloud…_

Her destination, as she scuttled carefully through the corridors, quick to stay out of sight.

He’d made it out, and more importantly, he’d kept his promise – Tifa had made it out too. And, foolhardy as the girl was, here she was, following him into the jaws of hell itself.

Every sound jerked her to full attention, Rekka braced and ready, but she made her way up to her goal thankfully without incident. Still, she couldn’t be certain what she might find at the end.

So strange how Tifa and Aerith’s paths had crossed – especially considering the hidden bond that joined them. The strange motley team had managed to retake Aerith, only to find themselves recaptured after Cloud somehow ended up out of commission. The Turks could have taken them all in, but technically, they were assigned to the Vice President – which also meant, that technically, Cissnei wasn’t where she was at all. Her thoughts drifted, without subtracting from her focus on the task at hand. How had _Rufus_ decided to come back at this precise moment? Tseng had posed the question; not even he had an answer, but it was not their place to question, nor was it for them to interfere with the troops that took Cloud’s party in.

Instead, her job was to get them out.

She was already thinking her way past the guards, running through the possibilities in her head. But as she entered Hojo’s creepy lab – a place she hated ,and rarely had to visit, with Hojo’s obsession with secrecy – she had a nagging sensation of something terribly wrong.

She crept closer, hearing no sounds, not a creak or murmur; but it was only as she was nearly upon them that she realized, concealed at first but the red lights of the holding area –

The guards, dead, lying in a pool of blackened blood.

Delicately stepping around the corpses, too hardened for revulsion, instead her body tensed on heightened alert – she crouched and carefully peered around the corner – only to have her jaw drop in surprise.

_Sephiroth._

It was true.

The nightmare returned, his towering flesh walking the walls of the building. He stood before the middle cell with a crazed smile scrawled across his features. He held up one gloved hand – and Cissnei heard a _click_ , as the light changed to the green of unlock.

Slowly, his head turned towards her hiding spot.

Cissnei ran.


	34. December 14, 0007 (AM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication this round is to Cloudy Strife, Final Heaven Discord member, for giving me some ideas about Cloud/Sephiroth/Jenova in the Shinra building.

Cloud woke, not with a slow rouse into wakefulness, but an electric jolt of – _something._

_The dreams_. Few images, detached from each other, but the sound broke through, reverberations still hammering through his brain. _Come to me,_ the words whispered with feeling, a summons he hesitated to resist.

At first, it seemed nothing had changed. He was still in the Shinra cells, leaning uncomfortably against the cold steel wall. Across from him, Tifa was sleeping surprisingly comfortably, considering.

He didn’t notice at first, the dull lights of the blackened hallway blurring with the ruby lights of the cells, little differentiating inner from outer space. A thin sliver of green breaking it up was his first clue; and even as his eyes rapidly adjusted, it took longer for his brain to catch up.

“Tifa,” he loud-whispered, jumping to his feet and hustling to the cot, shaking her awake as firmly as he dared. “You’ve gotta see this. The door’s open.”

She snapped to attention, his mako-bright eyes two reassuring stars in the darkness, as her own vision adjusted, taking much longer then his. Turning, she took in the now-open door, the silent empty hallway beyond.

“How?” she asked. “Is it a trap?”

“Probably,” he replied. “But it’s the best option we have right now.”

She nodded, sliding off the bed and stepping past him through the door. He glanced past her, seeing the crumpled guards, clearly dead. Cloud tried not to be unnerved with which gentle Tifa flopped over the guard’s body, rummaging through his blood-crusted uniform. Straightening, she lifted a set of keycards with a smile of victory.

He quickly matched the numbers to the doors, handing one to Tifa. “I’ll check on the guys, you get Aerith.” She nodded, loyally all-business now, as focused as Cloud. Or perhaps just desperate to get out.

Aerith woke up groggy, confused, from dreams of green and a sky she’d never seen, to gray and gloom encroaching on her. “Wh- what’s going on?” she dribbled out.

The red of the hallway lights reflected in Tifa’s eyes, making them burn like embers against her pale, luminescent skin. “Shhh,” the other woman cautioned. “We’re escaping.”

_Escaping._ That one trigger word…. Aerith had spent all her life escaping. Perhaps one of these days, she’d manage to escape for good. “I’m ready,” she whispered back, carefully rising to follow Tifa out.

She was barely out of the door before Barret was pressing her familiar staff into her hand. Taking it gratefully, she closed her fist tightly on its filigreed length, its cool and balance comforting in her hand.

“They were so lazy, they just had our weapons piled up right outside. Didn’t think we’d be able to get out so easily. Shinra security,” he snorted.

“We _wouldn’t_ have,” Tifa reminded him. “We still don’t know WHY we were even let out.”

Cloud and Red were crouching by a dark patch on the floor, motioning them over. “It’s.. not just the guards. I didn’t notice it all at first. It took Red to sniff it out in the dark.”

“A whole trail of blood.” The animal remained calm, unperturbed. “Quite a lot of it. Someone would have had to really have dragged a body through the corridors to get something like this.” He motioned with his nose to where the black smears extended into the dark passage ahead, continuing around the corner past their line of sight. “And something else mixed in. Unfamiliar, and quite unpleasant. I find it all rather unnerving.”

“Then it IS a trap, obviously,” Tifa fretted. “Someone wants us to follow them.”

“Well, that’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?” All eyes turned to Aerith as she continued. ‘ I mean, we were ALREADY trapped/ But I agree, we’re e being pushed to do SOMETHING. Might as well follow it and find out.”

Cloud nodded, concentrating. “Not like there’s a lot of other options anyway. Go back to the cells and wait?” He slapped his sword on his back, the metallic _clang_ echoing uncomfortably in the silence, and began trudging down the hallway Red had already started down. Behind him, he sensed his companions following.

_Blood. So much blood._ A little didn’t faze Tifa, but _this_ much, smeared along the floors, the walls, even the CEILING. “You okay?” Barret asked her gently, as they entered the brighter lights of the lab proper.

She nodded, wondering if anyone but Barret could read the obvious on her face. She hoped dearly that most employees had already been gone for the night, steering clear from crumpled clothing concealing irregular lumps.

Following the trail up the stairwell, it finally veered up a grand staircase, and as they climbed, bright lights flooded her vision, leaving her blinking uncomfortably. Alarmed, she raised her fists, realizing her companions were tensed and ready as well.

Finally, the ubiquitous pale green glow of mako-powered light jogged her memory, she realizing what it must be – the panoramic view of Midgar outside. They were at the top.

“The whole floor for one office. Fancy,” Aerith idly observed.

“Nothin’ but the best for the lord of the assholes,” Barret announced, loud as always. No one much seemed to be heralding their arrival, anyway. He peered out the smaller windows behind them. “Gotta be able to look down on the people you’re shitting on.”

Approaching the desk, perched above the raised dais like a throne – Cloud was the first to notice, though Tifa’s eyes followed him almost immediately. A figure, slumped on the desk – the steel length of a sword, protruding through his chest, eyes already dead bulging above it.

President Shinra, dead before them.

And for a moment, a vision shimmered into view – a wall of silver hair framing a face of cruelty, cat-slit pupils set in mako-green irises.

With a final jerk, a heinous smile, Sephiroth yanked his word from the President’s corpse. The wound, so clean and sharp that no blood yet bubbled out, but fatal nonetheless.

Acid rose in Tifa’s throat. She could almost _taste_ the feeling of her fingers wrapped around that sword’s hilt. Wishing she had been the one to deliver that killing blow, turning next to Sephiroth to finish him as well. Memories swam in her eyes, blood and fire and fear intertwining… She shook her head, forcing composure, and Cloud was there, severe, looking back at her…

“Sephiroth.” The one word hung between the two of them, no more acknowledgement needed.

For a long moment, no one responded; finally, Barret spoke. “Well, shit. You mean he’s some kind of a good guy?”

“He… no!: Tifa would believe that over her own dead body. Cloud’s face reflected her own icy grimness. Looking at the others, she considered. They were united in their hate for Shinra… but she and Cloud were the only ones carrying a grudge against Sephiroth. The famous SOLDIER. The hero of Wutai.

The destroyer of Cloud’s hometown, of her life.

Aerith wondered. Sephiroth. _A man who thought himself an Ancient…_ But he’d been killed. An unknown threat, now risen again, and the Planet could tell her no more than that.

“He might have done the world a favor, but we have yet to ascertain his true motivations,” Red astutely pointed out.

“Besides,” Aerith volunteered, looking around anxiously, “there’s the President’s son.” A man she’d never run across as a child, but who had borne a particularly strong desire to bring her in, only Tseng’s mysterious protection and the need for her cooperation keeping her free. “We don’t know how long ago this all happened. Rufus could be here any second.” He’d be there in a hurry to take over the mantle of the father he had always despised. She was already anticipating the familiar roar of a Shinra helicopter in the background.

She shivered. They hadn’t escaped yet.

“I’ve never actually been up here, she continued, “but I know there’s only a helipad outside, and just a communications antenna above. We’d better backtrack to the elevator and try to get out of here.” But even as she said the words, she realized the whir of a helicopter hadn’t been her paranoid imagination.

Running outside, whipping winds greeted the party as the blades of the bird churned the air above the tarmac. _They should be going,_ Cloud knew. But as the helicopter slowly descended, he found himself driven to see the man in question – see the face of the enemy, the new head of the Shinra empire.

He realized none of his companions moved to leave, either.

_Anger_ …. Before him, the ultimate figurehead, symbol of all he had lost… all of them, really, but he was the one best equipped to exact vengeance. Behind that, a small part he was denying… an affinity, perhaps nothing more than the voice of his own bruised ego, thirsting for the imminent battle, to take the power Shinra itself had given him and turn it back on their own.

Justice, really. This was _his_ fight, and his alone. And those behind him were his to protect. Shinra would squash most of them without a thought, but Aerith… she was the one they really wanted.

SOLDIERs were supposed to protect; the man before him had created them to destroy. This was his chance to prove otherwise.

“Barret,” he called behind him. “Take Aerith and get her out.” Tifa, Red, he trusted to hold their own; he hoped he wasn’t mistaken. Vaguely, he heard Barret arguing with him, heard his own voice asking Barret, _I’m asking you, do me this favor…_ but his mind’s eyes had already narrowed onto his opponent.

Tifa, pausing to look back at him, visibly torn between obeying and staying, leaving the memory her beautiful eyes before she, too, turned and ran.

Rufus just smirked, cool-steel exterior like the twin guns in his hands, as he dismissed his own guards with a flick of his hand after Cloud’s companions – far more arrogance, and much less argument back.

Cloud wondered if that arrogance would be his demise.

Rufus stared down this cocky, self-sure young SOLDIER. _Ex_ -SOLDIER, he claimed, as if there could be any such thing. With the mako running through their veins – once a slave, always a slave. He would enjoy putting this bastard in his place.

“Just the two of us,” he issued the challenge. His faithful guard dog heeled at his side. “Well. Make that three.”

Cloud _salivated_ for the one-on-one, craving the visceral experience of wiping the dirt with Rufus Shinra. “Let’s dance, asshole.” And Cloud struck.

******

Running down the grand staircase to the elevator that was their best way out, Aerith suddenly froze. Startled, fearful, she had an overwhelming urge… “Wait. Someone needs to stay here and wait for Cloud.”

Without missing a beat, Tifa answered. “I need to be the one to stay. You heard Cloud, you need to get out.” Barret, true to his word, was already dragging Aerith away. Aerith met Tifa’s eyes, exchanging a long look fraught with meaning; and they departed, leaving Tifa alone on the 69th floor.

Above her, the clashes of the battle between Cloud and Rufus vibrated through the walls, echoed through the cavernous room where she stood. Paralyzed, she wanted to run back up to Cloud, but knew right now she’d only be in the way.

Abruptly, the noise ceased. Tifa realized she was half-panting despite not having moved an inch. Had Cloud beaten him? She craned her ears, and for long anxious seconds… nothing.

Then a quake, gunshots hear, and out the window a helicopter banked and rose – a white blur she didn’t need to see clearly to identify, hanging off the rail.

She didn’t think any more. She ran…

*******

Rufus, escaped, the fight an unsatisfying draw; Cloud left staring up as he was whisked away, hanging nonchalantly off its rail, rapidly becoming a white speck in the deep-dark of the night above.

He turned to run back inside, after the others, but as a final _fuck-you,_ the helicopter showered bullets over him; even deflecting the bulk with the flat of his blade, he found himself pushed step by step backwards…

…he hadn’t realize how far until he felt the _creak_ below him, slashing back to the Sector Five reactor as the ground broke apart beneath him. Grasping frantically, he caught the edge of the protruding beam above, clinging with his right hand as he swung in the whispering winds high above the ground.

Idly, he realized he still clutched his word in the other; it hadn’t occurred to him to let go. He hung there, undecided; it was no further than the drop from the plate. But there was no welcoming bed of

Flowers at the bottom; no encouraging words telling him to let go.

He felt the beam wobble, his glove sliding a couple inches further towards an uncertain fall. Gripping the sword’s handle, he weighed his decision, knowing there were only seconds left – drop the sword and grab on tight…

His fingers loosened.

Out of nowhere, running steps on the tarmac above. A slide, like rubber on asphalt, and suddenly above him -

The beautiful, welcome face of his savior; the worry he’d seen in her eyes as she left, now bringing her back.

He couldn’t have been more glad to see her.

Braced on the remaining structure, Tifa stretched forward, grabbing his wrist, just as his glove came loose from the beam. The metal fell away, tumbling hundreds of meters to the ground below. He never heard the impact.

She broke into a smile of welcome and relief, and even in their precarious situation, she spared a moment for chiding tease. “You’ve got to be better than this, if you’re going to play the hero.”

He gave her a slender, resigned frown; but inside his heart leapt with gratitude and pride and amazement, even dangling seventy stories above the plate. Her second hand wrapped around his right fist, gently drawing him back up.

Only a moment to spare to look at each other, reassuring themselves they were both alive; Cloud had never wanted so badly to kiss her. But now was not the time.

Together they rushed back inside, reversing the bloody path down the main stairs. Despite the fight, his launch over the side of the building,, he was barely out of breath, and Tifa couldn’t help but admire the fact. “Rufus?” her one-word question, realizing she hadn’t even thought to ask.

“Gone,” his equally terse answer. The main elevator loomed ahead; he grabbed her hand to pull her in. He pushed a button; Tifa anxiously watched the numbers counting down.

“How are we going to get out?” she asked, hoping he had a plan.

He did. The bell dinged, the doors opened, and they stepped out into Shinra’s showroom.

Bikes, cars, TVs. Legacy of Shinra’s technological domination. “Do you know how to drive?” he asked.

“Of course!” she answered. One of the many miscellaneous skills she’d acquired in passing, surviving her years in the slums.

“Good. Hate for you to have to figure it out on the way.” His tone was flat, but there was a sparkle of mirth in his eyes, the goofy self within that always charmed her. Cloud motioned to a small three-wheeled pickup; a Shinra trademark, common above the plate for its size and maneuverability. “No keys. Push-button ignition.”

“What about you?” she asked over her shoulder, as she opened the door and slid neatly into the driver’s seat.

“Don’t worry. I got this. Just grab the others.” She nodded, one finger neatly starting the engine. It roared, and she looked frantically around for Cloud.

It was a distant rumbling, the growl of another motor, that first alerted her… the motorcycle roared past her, settling to an ever purr as he paused at the top of the stairs, all brazen SOLDIER confidence, looking perfectly at ease on the Hardy-Daytona.

She hadn’t even known he COULD ride. He turned back, his eyes meeting hers, giving her a quick nod that said _I know you can do this, Tifa, just follow me._

And she knew she would. _Anywhere._

*******

Surrounded. Now way out.

Barret told her to go. This bear of a man, so eager to protect; she was glad Marlene had ended up with a father like him. And she wanted the girl to _keep_ that father, not have him die in a pointless last stand against Heidegger and his troops.

“We stay together,” she told him, resolute; but as she heard Heidegger give the order, _save the Ancient, but kill the others,_ she wondered if any of them could escape.

A noise from the floor above, and all heads, Shinra and AVALNCHE, turned as one.

Barely remembering to breathe, Tifa rumbled down the stairs, disconcerted as the truck jumped and jolted, splashing into the main foyer to see troops scattered by Cloud’s first charge. Slamming on the brakes, she called to her friends, they rushing to clamber into the cab and bed. Aerith shared a grin of victory with Tifa as she plopped into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed – and with a jerk, they were off.

Before her, she saw Cloud and the bike lurch forward, gunning the motor before she had time to be afraid, heard Aerith calling for everyone to _brace, brace themselves_ and glass was shattering – tires slamming on asphalt at the bottom of a three-story fall, Shinra-made shocks absorbing most of the impact but still she felt her jaw slamming into her brain, heard Barret’s gun firing behind her – Cloud just at the edge of her peripheral vision, barely holding the handlebars as his sword swing out in wild yet accurate arcs, their Shinra pursuers going down in a spray of sparks and oil, feeling Aerith’s tension radiating through the cab –

\- adrenaline finally winding down as they screeched to a stop on the jagged edge of the broken highway ahead, a shattered remnant of a feeble attempt to connect the plate and slums.

The wreckage of Shinra’s latest giant mech lay burning behind them, a wild fight that had pushed Cloud to his limits against the giant, the tiny motorcycle darting in and out to finally wear the monstrosity down. He hoped dearly that was the last enormous robot he'd ever have to see.

Stepping out of the cab, Tifa saw the first rays of sun rising over the mountains of the east, signaling the end of their long overnight in the Shinra building.

The wind that brushed their faces was warm, the heat of the remaining reactors blowing over them. Tifa remembered her surprise when, after the cool mountain breezes bearing just a touch of heat from Nibelheim’s own reactor, she came to the humid mug of the undercity. Had five years of her life flow n by so easily?

She stared ahead. Sector Seven destroyed - Shinra after their heads – there was nothing for her to go back to now.

Traveling was not what she wanted to do – probably because she’d never been given a choice. Time and circumstance had brought her to this scrapheap of a city and with some friends – her head turned to Barret, the only one of those that remained – she’d carved out a life here somehow.

But she’d never stopped missing _home._ Not just Nibelheim, but home. Midgar had just been a placed she’d lived for a while.

_Home…_ that was all she really wanted. A place of her own, to stay and breathe. Love. A family. Close to her heart – the only things she’d ever wanted for keeps. Something she’d once taken for granted, now something she’d give anything to have back.

  
She hadn’t realized she’d been staring at Cloud until he looked back. Eyes bluer than the sky that was brightening before her. _The one piece of home that had come back…_

A promise kept late, but perhaps now was when she needed it more than ever. She’d been fine on her own, then with AvALANCHE - then Cloud came along and changed everything. Cloud himself, perhaps a signal that it was time to move on; he being there made the leaving easier.

She’d stay with him, wherever he went.

She had nowhere else to go.

“What will you do now?” she asked. He paused, thinking. “I need to settle things with Sephiroth…. He trailed off, eyes looking for something unseen on the horizon.

Her eyes were soft, as he glanced to her once more. Regretful. He could see she wanted that too, the two of them united by that hate – but she’d had five years for that desire to mollify and fade. He’d had five years to… what? He still couldn’t remember what happened in those five years, leaving the Nibelheim incident, Sephiroth, as fresh n his mind as if it had been only a few weeks before.

_Those missing years…_ that, more than anything, was what he wanted more than anything, to pay back Sephiroth for.

He let Tifa fill his vision; thought of finding her again, unsure if she had even survived. _Well, more than_ almost _anything._

Barret cleared his throat. “I don’t know about Sephiroth, Shinra, whatever. I’m lost. It’s all so fucked up. He scratched his head with his left hand, thinking how long he’d had to go without the missing right – and remembering how he was once so in favor of Shinra, he was angry all over again. “Maybe I’m just out for revenge.”

_Marlene,_ he thought. His little girl. How he wished he could return to her; she was his world. But he also knew he needed to help make the world he wanted her to grow up him; the dilemma tore his heart apart, only consoled by Marlene’s permission for him to go, the little girl so often wise beyond her years. _Yep, his little girl was something special, all right._

“I need to get back home. I have been away for far too long,” added Red.

Aerith examined their latest companion. One of the guardians of the Planet, though on a different wavelength than herself – still, both the carriers of a great burden. And recipients of Hojo’s sinister desire to exploit it.

“Does it matter?” Aerith found herself the last to speak. “We’ve all got reasons to move on. Not like any of us will be going back to Midgar.” Shinra did not like to leave loose ends. Two terrorists. Two desire captives for Hojo – she shuddered – and Cloud, Ex-SOLDIER, one of their own gone rouge. Would Shinra let their valuable _property_ loose so easily?

_Zack, how did you manage to get away?_

“I… have to learn. About the Ancients. About who I am. About why Shinra thinks they can use me…” And maybe, just maybe, she would find her promised land somewhere along the way.

After all this time, could she, deep down, be afraid to truly find it?

Red nudged her hand. “My people know such things. Perhaps when we get there, they can help?”

“Thank you, Red.” She resisted the urge to pat his nose. “There’s nothing left for me her now, anyway. My mother was getting ready to leave too. ” She saw Barret open his mouth, then stop himself – and it pleased her to see the man so concerned for his daughter. Kalm was probably where Elmyra would go – but she didn’t want to tell Barret, knowing they couldn’t afford to wait. “You can trust my mom,. She’ll take good care of Marlene, don’t worry.”

Barret nodded, gracefully. “I owe the both of you more of a debt than I can hope to repay.”

_No, it’s I who owe you,_ she thought. _You ,and Tifa, and even Cloud._ Drifting forward on other thoughts… Cloud… _My other mother. She told me one day… I thought I’d found a promised land once, but it came away like mist. Can lightning strike twice? Or is this some fairy tale I’ve constructed from regrets and reminders of what once was?_

And Tifa… Aerith saw her out of the corner of her eye. Her caring for the other woman was not in doubt, mixed with her worry for Cloud, the need she felt to look out for them both.

At Cloud’s right, Tifa sighed deeply. “I guess this is goodbye to Midgar…”

“Good riddance,” Cloud added.

Aerith couldn’t bring herself to say the same. For all the tragedy and unpleasantness Midgar held… love could be found there too. But her promised land, her land of supreme happiness and joy… was still somewhere on the road in front of her..

She looked back at the city of mako behind them, then forward to the sky ahead.

_The sky…_ the sky… and the boundless, terrifying freedom it represented… _He was supposed to be the one to show me._ Not to leave her to brave it on her own. She shivered, wishing she could go back and hide under the sheltering steel forever… but it was time she faced her fear, readied for the unknown journey.

“Goodbye, Midgar,” she said to the rising sun. “Goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, at this point it remains unknown whether Rufus is going to be an important character in the story or not. What might be planned for him? Guess what, this author doesn’t actually know. Or, to be more accurate, she has several ideas and is undecided. But characters have this nagging habit of deciding for themselves they want to be included (I’m looking at YOU, Cissnei!) so who knows.
> 
> Also, I’ve noticed when I post multiple chapters at a time, people sometimes miss the first ones. A couple updates back there was a double. If you missed the first one (December 12, 0007 (AM)) you missed a very important chapter. Also, this update is a triple so make sure you don’t miss out!


	35. December 14 (PM) - December 15, 0007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dedication goes out to holysmotez, Final Heaven Discord member and Ao3 writer, for a line about destiny in one of their fics (On The Way To Kalm). The Whispers won’t be appearing in this story, because they’re not really relevant, but the whole concept of defying destiny in Remake really bugged me. I kinda have a better idea now of how things might fit together.

The sky breathed far above her, an open vista of blue and possibilities. Terrifying, exhilarating, all in equal measure. Stuck in immanence for so long, her life bounded by the walls of Midgar and the leash the Turks allowed her, the idea that she might have any say in her destiny continued to elude the grasp of Aerith’s mind.

As Midgar, the only home she’d ever known, began to recede in the distance, green began to make an appearance - not unlike the homecoming she always felt when returning to Sector Five – her flowers always greeting her with their peaceful welcome, as she reached the familiar door of the cottage she shared with her mother. The earth’s comfort seemed to be reaching for her once again, letting her know the journey might not be what she feared. She’d felt adrift in the hours through the wastes, desperately homesick, but now… it made her feel slowly, imperceptibly stronger.

She looked forward to Cloud, another being, like herself, made both of possibilities and mysteries. He _wasn’t_ the one – not the man who had promised to one day show her the sky – but _that_ man had disappeared, leaving this reticent replacement. Still – this new world wasn’t as disconcerting as it might have been, had she been forced to face this all alone.

On her right, Tifa, her other warmly-held companion. The others, she was still getting to know, but there was the shared womanhood that brought the two of them close immediately.

She worried she hadn’t done permanent damage to that bond.

It was something she’d have to tackle eventually, hoping her careless slip wouldn’t bear bitter fruit. Taking a deep breath, she approached, not failing to notice that Tifa’s eyes were resting on the same direction as she herself had just been looking.

“He feels… familiar to me,” she began; Tifa jumped, startled by Aerith’s approach. “It must be something about SOLDIER. The way they carry themselves.” If only Aerith could believe that was ALL it was about. The red flag – that sword, something Zack gained from death and wouldn’t have given it up unless he himself… a train of thought leading to conclusions that, even more than the sky reminiscent of his eyes, she was afraid to face.

Tifa’s attention was on her now, thought Aerith doubted the other woman even realized how often her eyes darted back to Cloud, concern as much as affection for the man bridging the two women together. “I guess,” Tifa replied. “I haven’t exactly met a lot of SOLDIERs before him.”

_Except Sephiroth,_ Tifa thought. _And… that_ other _one._ Somehow not wanting to even think his name. One killed – or so she had thought – the other just… _lost_.

“I’ve met some,” Aerith answered vaguely, waving her hand breezily, dismissive. “Shinra tries to make them into weapons. But… some of them have told me… they want to be protectors. _Heroes_.”

“Sounds like Shinra doesn’t give them much of a chance to do that,” Tifa replied dryly.

_True that_ , Aerith thought. How disillusioned Zack had become. How it had hurt her to watch his dreams shrivel and die. Perhaps Cloud followed the wiser path, sheltering himself inside invisible emotional armor. “But… they COULD be.”

_Zack_ … he had been her joy, he safety; she’d had nothing to fear from him. Cloud drew her in a way that was in some ways the same but a part that was uniquely him; she found herself, wanting to lead him, care for him.

Which side meant love?

And if it wasn’t… did it have to mean EVERYTHING to mean SOMETHING?

Her last words still hanging in the air, Aerith decided to push just a little bit further. “He makes me feel… safe.”

For a moment, Tifa’s eyes grew distant; Aerith wondered what in her past she was reaching back for. So much of Tifa unknown, intriguing; she reminded herself there would be plenty of time for them to get acquainted, on the long unknown road ahead. She wanted not just to know Tifa, but find out what she knew about Cloud… Tifa was the one who could gently nudge and alter Cloud’s path. Tifa held a part of Cloud – a part she couldn’t touch, and that was nothing she could overcome.

“Me, too,” Tifa finally answered.

Tifa felt an involuntary splash of jealousy – right afterward, berating herself for the sentiment. She had Cloud’s promise, but it was not only she he was exclusively bound to rescue – the welfare of the whole team was on his short-statured shoulders now. Nor would she want him otherwise. She trusted him with the welfare of her family both old and new – _Marlene,_ too, the thought came to her, a second-degree protection Cloud fulfilled by bringing Barret and Tifa safely home. _So where did this come from?_

Cloud was a man, and Tifa wasn’t blind, and Aerith was only human as well. Aerith’s lighthearted flirtation, a skill Tifa so sorely lacked – and she saw how it made Cloud brighten, reacting to Aerith’s light in a manner Tifa didn’t evoke in him. Perhaps it was nothing, or - Was Aerith seeing the same things in Cloud _she_ did? Was it truly _Cloud_ Tifa saw, or was she just fooling herself with illusions of safety and home he offered?

Was she even GOOD for him – or was she selfishly thinking of herself?

If it came down to it…

...what if it turned out the best thing for Cloud was to let him go?

Gloomy thoughts, for a voyage that should be starting with hope.

She’d accepted that her destiny lay in Midgar, but that had come to a literal and figurative dead end; and she wondered what that destiny might have been had she stayed. _Did that option even remain?_

Now leaving once again, she found herself just as terrified as Aerith of the heavens cupped like a giant bowl over them, imprisoning whatever lay ahead, underneath it.

Cloud fixed on the road before them, thinking, thinking. At his side, Barret fretted like a mother hen over Marlene, regretting having to leave her and pumped for the fight ahead, often all in the same breath.

Cloud ignored it as long as he could, finally shushing the other man. “ _Barret._ Marlene will be _fine._ ” Reluctant as he had been to take up the mantle of leader, he knew he was the logical choice; Barret’s black-and-white view wasn’t what the group needed to lead them forward.

Black and white simply weren’t all that clear anymore. He’d _been_ the enemy. He should know.

That thought led him to consider his other companions. Red seemed an enigma, but really was the least complicated of _any_ of them; well-spoken, logical, remarkably free of human idiosyncrasies. And the women…

Both so different from each other. Both so confusing.

_Aerith_ … she sparked something he didn’t know existed – and he couldn’t help being charmed. Her strange pronouncement in that dream. _Do I get a say in this,_ he’d responded, wondering if he had _any_ control over his future; Aerith’s mystery disarming him, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

But Tifa’s quiet validation made him uncertain in a different way. The way she saw him, unnervingly accurate – she had the benefit of knowing him way back _when_ , and there was no fooling her.

_Two women. Two chances to be a hero._

The word _love,_ he nervously pushed out of his head.

And behind even _that –_ the eerie voice, echoing in the recesses of his head. I’m _waiting, Cloud_ , it had told him as they stood at the edge of their future – and as he looked to Aerith, hoping she might have some answers, she had only tipped her head, questioning. For the first time, he’d felt distinctly _two_ pulls, wondering if they would tug him apart.

“You okay there, Spikey?” Barret burst into his musings.

“Ok. Just thinking.” Barret looked unconvinced, but let the matter drop. Red merely sniffed, giving no hint to his own thoughts about the strange creatures that were humans.

He knew Cloud was right. He knew Marlene was safe – way safer than she’d be with _him_ right now, for certain. But that didn’t make it easier. He’d caught Elmyra’s glance when she’d told them Aerith was not her daughter by blood – the woman _knew_. Love was more than just blood.

Red loped easily with them, around them. _What’s with you?_ Barret wondered. _What is your home like? Do you have a family that you’re going back to?_

Red volunteered no new information, and Barret didn’t ask.

*******

Tifa listened, disconcerted, as Cloud told his story. It was the first time she had heard this version of events, and now she was regretting not prying him for it earlier. Barret had started it, digging at Cloud for _who was Sephiroth,_ and as the whole convoluted narrative came to light, he interrupted over and over; meanwhile Tifa silently pondered, trying to find an explanation for what Cloud was telling them.

She should have questioned more, that day she found him at the train station – things he shouldn’t have known, things he _should_ have known and didn’t - but now she realized it was worse than she had assumed. _He really thinks he was there… how could that be? It couldn’t have happened that way, it just couldn’t!_ Tifa wished dearly she didn’t sound so much like she was trying to convince herself.

“I don’t remember killing him,” Cloud finally finished with a nonchalant shrug. “It just kind of… stops there. I mean, I shouldn’t have survived. Not against Sephiroth.”

“I shouldn’t have either,” Tifa added. “But all the papers reported him killed…” She’d had her reasons, she remembered, to check the papers faithfully those first few months getting settled – _but,_ she reminded herself, it was for the purpose of finding news of Cloud. It was only a gleeful bonus that she had read of the general’s demise, while she was still there _alive_ against all odds.

As she always did when thinking of that day, she automatically reached up to between her breasts, where a razor-lined scar should have bled her life away.

“Well, shit. Who knows what really happened, then?” Barret loud-mouthed. “Wouldn’t exactly be the first time the news was nothing but Shinra lies.”

Seemed there was at least one person who wasn’t convinced, either. "You didn’t say much," Aerith observed, as the males filed out, expression somewhere between sympathy and suspicion, an uncomfortable combination to see on the face of a friend.

“There wasn’t much to add,” Tifa hedged. Aerith narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

“Why did you nominate him for leader?” Tifa suddenly asked, desperate to change the subject.

“You don’t approve??” Aerith replied.

“No, it’s not that, I just….” Tifa realized that there really _wasn’t_ anything to add to the end of that statement. Cloud was indeed the best choice for the role. Everyone else, including herself, was lacking in one respect or another. Cloud was the one that could be counted on to hold them together.

Aerith didn’t much care to explain her reasoning either, leaving it hanging, the question understood to be closed. It was that same touchy subject… _Safe._ Something she’d been so desperate to feel that she found it muddling her head. In any case, she wondered if she’d really found any safety at all, even free of Midgar. All the while Cloud had been talking, she’d been asking herself, _why did Sephiroth think he was an Ancient?_ What lies had Shinra told the general to lead him to that conclusion, ultimately precipitating the madness that lead to Nibelheim’s destruction – and possibly further yet?

The Planet spoke to her in whispers of _feeling_ rather than words, images and sensations left to her to identify. Bits and pieces creeping into her awareness, but overriding it all, the fundamental sense of _wrongness_ she’d felt emanating from that man, potent even in that one brief instant that they’d seen him in the Shinra building.

_Yellow flowers crumbling before him…_

Her heart went out to Cloud, a fellow lost soul in search of the truth – and she wasn’t the one who had it for him. For now, she’d wait and watch…

*******

Tseng stood at the exit to the Mythril Mines, looking down on the small troupe, the ones now replacing him as protectors of his charge. Or, to be more accurate, the _one_ who was replacing him.

Rude and Elena, poised, awaiting the signal to take the group in, not knowing that order would not be forthcoming. _Cloud, a mixed blessing_. Tseng was… _mostly_ sure Aerith was safe with the man - though too many unknowns still troubled him. Most notably the sea change in the man’s personality. Whatever had brought him up to SOLDIER standards… could he hang onto his humanity as Zack did?

Cloud had been first deemed unsuited for SOLDIER, but right before Nibelheim… Tseng had Cissnei’s brief, the assessment of his potential early on. Assigned more responsibility, Cloud had been sent to Modeoheim, proving himself and befriending Zack Fair. Culminating in those last reports – how close Cloud had been to ready… and then…

Somehow, Cloud had reached his goal, by a traceroute unknown - and Tseng had little hope any of it was good.

“Well, Aerith, it looks like we won’t be seeing each other for a while,” he told the young woman he’d watched grow up – not a parent, but a guardian nevertheless. And like all guardians, there came a time to let his charge go. He wanted to memorize Aerith’s face, allowing himself a little sentimentality.

It was only his personal side that felt regretful; from all other standpoints, he was nothing but grateful that Shinra’s interest would be sidetracked for a while, that Rufus had spotted more fertile ground for pursuit. He still didn’t understand the President’s cryptic decision, why the sudden turnabout, why Rufus was so sure; but it was not his place to question, merely glad it happened to coincide with his own interests.

_Every day she remains free is another small victory_. Was he finally free of this burden?

“Tseng…” Aerith didn’t know what to say. _I thought of asking for his help leaving Midgar,_ she remembered, five years before… when she had a different reason to escape. _Strange how things should work out._ Now, through a sequence of events she never could have predicted, she found him abetting her departure after all. She was scared to ask, but forced the words out anyway. “Isn’t Shinra interested in me anymore?” _Could I really be so lucky?_

For a moment, she wasn’t sure he was going to answer, if her old protector would wave her off with a vague statement or nothing more than an unreadable glance. “The President…” Tseng began, haltingly.

“He wants to go search for Sephiroth instead. Sephiroth will lead us to the Promised Land!” announced the new Turk, the blond. Tseng looked over, pained exasperation, although part of the man seemed almost… _indulgent_? as well. Aerith couldn’t help but wonder. Not so curious, though, that she wanted to stick around.

She glanced back to Cloud, who hadn’t broken his gaze away from the Turks since they’d first run into each other, the ex-SOLDIER poised to fight through this obstacle on their journey, had the need arose. But it seemed now - it hadn’t. _Zack…_ she’d counted on him to be a buffer between her and Shinra; now Cloud was taking up the metaphorical sword. And _literal_ , if some of her suspicions were correct.

Tseng wanted to scold Elena for her big mouth; but really, what harm did it do now? He hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about Aerith joining up with AVALANCHE, a side dish served up along with Cloud; but Barret’s little splinter cell was broken, hardly worth mentioning as far as Shinra was concerned. This last remnant was going after Sephiroth as well, placing them at least nominally on the same side; Tseng wondered how _that_ might play out.

“Perhaps, Aerith, we’ll be able to experience this joyful reunion once again.” His voice was so flat that Aerith could not discern the sincerity of the Turk’s words. But, as Cloud visibly relaxed beside her, she supposed it little mattered. The Turks no longer meant to impede her path.

She was free…  
  


*******

“So, which one are you sleeping with?”

Cloud groaned inwardly. Not even to Junon yet, and he was already regretting allowing Yuffie to come along. He’d been listening to her for what must it have been, _weeks_?

Hours.

“Oh, no!” the girl groaned. “You’re doing BOTH of them, aren’t you? That’s a perfectly good friendship you’re ruining there, you know?” Indeed, yards away, Tifa and Aerith were talking easily, animatedly. Cheerfully. Which, Cloud thought, was a sure guarantee that they were talking about something other than him. “That is _SO_ not cool, you know? You really think they are not going to find out? And then there’ll be a big old catfight in our camp, you know? That’s a lot of hair to pull between them.”

“Yuffie,” he cautioned. What DID women talk about for so long? Clothes? The weather? He realized he had absolutely no idea.

“Oh, I get it! You guys already worked it out, huh. You have one of those polyamorous arrangements, right? I mean that’s cool that you are all so open minded and stuff – “

“YUFFIE.” Stronger this time. Perhaps the answer to women was locked deep away in those years of missing memories. Then again, it was far more likely that he had never had a clue to begin with.

“- but how do you work it out? I mean, do you trade off nights or something? Or do you guys just like to have, like, threesomes instead? But how does that even work, when you’re the only guy and you have only one – “

“YUFFIE!” Cloud yelled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Tifa’s and Aerith’s heads turn, but only for a moment, before they returned back to talking about shopping or whatever. “I. Am. Not. Sleeping. With. Either. Not together, not separately, _not either one._ Got it?”

“Oh.” Yuffie looked disappointed, then suddenly brightened. “So what you’re saying is you’re available?”

Cloud merely threw up his hands and walked away.

Tifa and Aerith had both been startled by the outburst, but neither gave it much thought. “Whatever,” Aerith shrugged. “She’s a teenager. We’ve got to expect that.”

“I’m not too sure of that. I never got to be too much of one.” Did she regret that luxury, or was she a better person for it? Tifa found her experiences bittersweet. “I had to make my way alone in Midgar at that age.”

“She’d traveled halfway across the world. You’d think that would grow her up some.” Aerith sniffed. “So, um, you’ve been in Midgar long?”

“Five years. “ A silence, and Aerith thought that might be all Tifa planned to say. The other woman shifted uncomfortably. “But… I guess I kinda got used to being more on my own, after my mother died.”

_Her mother…_ “I’m sorry to hear that,” Aerith replied gently. “May I ask… how old were you?”

“I was seven,” Tifa said in a small voice.

Aerith’s heart went out to her. “I was… the same age when my mom died,” she offered. “My real mother, I mean.”  
  
“Yeah… she was an Ancient too, right?” Aerith nodded. “Your mother told us… well, that you were adopted.”

“I was.” Aerith didn’t know if she was ready to explain the why and how; Tifa didn’t press. “So, yeah, I guess I understand… that was how, um, I ended up in Midgar. I’ve been there ever since.” _Until now._

Tifa laughed, irony over humor. “So, we both ended up losing our mothers, and we both ended up in Midgar. Kind of funny, huh?” She shook her head regretfully. “I’m glad you at least have Elmyra… even if she can never replace your first mother.”

_You have no idea how close you’re hitting to home, Tifa._ “I’m… very grateful,” she began carefully. “I mean… I don’t think I could love Elmyra less than my real mother. Plus I know her a lot better – just because I was older. There’s no reason I should be sorry that she’s my mom now,” Aerith finished the last words breathlessly, wanting to barrel through them and the pain they caused her.

She was jealous of Tifa in so many ways; not just for what she’d lost, and Tifa, gained. She envied the other woman her strength, her imperfections; the character she’d forged on her own, surviving without a shield in the slums – and Aerith knew as much as anyone, how the undercity could chew you up and spit you out. Tifa had _earned_ the scars she bore, the ones she tried to hide inside, but to Aerith’s eyes, shone through. While she herself had been sheltered, to some degree naïve still, growing and changing little except what was absolutely forced on her; counting on Zack to hide her heritage behind, without ever working out how that could be done.

Because, now she knew, it _couldn’t_ be done. She would be a Cetra wherever she went.

_Cloud,_ she thought. Another helpless to be anything other than what he was – broken pieces waiting to be put together. Something Aerith was just starting to understand. _Shouldn’t TIFA_ _know who he really is?_ Angrily, she found herself to some degree resentful of the other woman, wondering what she might be holding back. Things Cloud had a right to know, to heal the man broken like Aerith herself, while Tifa kept her secrets locked away.

She wished she could be the one to put Cloud back together, she really did; but she didn’t have the access key Tifa did, would never be able to get into Cloud’s heart completely.

They shared the bond, wanting what was best for him. WHO was best for him.

If Tifa ever let her whole heart show to Cloud...

…Aerith knew she herself would never stand a chance.

She saw Tifa staring at her, waiting expectantly; she contemplated what she saw in the other woman’s eyes. Fear. Insecurity. Jealousy, even; perhaps of Aerith’s perceived innocence, not knowing her secret hurts.

Suddenly, she was desperate to change the subject.

“So. Five years. That’s a while.” How little, or how much, could happen in that time. “I’m surprised we never ran into each other before.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Easy to get stuck in your own sector,” Tifa replied. “I would have liked to have bought your flowers. You know, fill up the bar with them.”

“Right, that would have been nice. You had such a cute little place, even though I only saw it, like, the once….” Aerith finished lamely, desperately backpedaling when she saw the look of worry on Tifa’s face. Reassuring, she laid one calm hand on the other woman’s arm. “She’ll be okay, Tifa. Like I told Barret, my mom was ready to leave Midgar anyway. I think she was tired of worrying about me so much. I think she’ll probably end up going to Kalm. I didn’t want to say anything to Barret, because, you know, he’d want to wait, and then…”

“- yeah, we don’t have that kind of time. And it’s too risky besides,” Tifa finished for her. “Believe me, I know. Barret loses all sense around his daughter. He’s wrapped around her little finger for sure.”

Aerith still had some trouble seeing the hot-tempered man that way, but she was coming around; besides, she trusted Tifa’s good judgment. _You just never know until you really get to know someone,_ she told herself, wondering how on earth Barret had ever cared for a baby with one hand.

_Speaking of…_

Hearing Barret calling them back to camp, the two women rose together. It was almost time for dinner, anyway. “So, you cook?” Aerith asked Tifa, interested. “That’s great. I can’t even boil water…”

“Have you tried fire materia?” Aerith stared at Tifa in surprise; then a sly grin slipped across the other woman’s face, and Aerith realized she was teasing. Their laughter lifted into the air, preceding them as they returned towards their camp.

******

Marlene stood on her tiptoes, reaching to tip the watering can into the vase of yellow lilies. The first flower rested proudly in the center, brought impressively back to full bloom under Marlene’s care; Elmyra couldn’t help but admire her dedication, even as the child knew they would be leaving soon. Trusting the flowers to take care of themselves in her absence.

For Aerith’s sake, Elmyra hoped they would.

“You’re so sweet to worry about the flowers,” she had told the girl.

Marlene had stopped, thoughtfully putting her thumb in her mouth, a faraway look in her eyes; for a moment, she looked far more ancient than her four years. “I saw it,” she said, “in that white ball. The glowing one, the one the flower girl let me hold.”

_The White Materia._ It made sense, actually.

The girl had brought back a half dozen duplicates from the garden, happily announcing the flower needed “friends”. At first Elmyra had treated it as typical childhood imagination; but then, she had seen Marlene in the garden, talking to the field of blooms with the same dedicated intensity with which Aerith had done the same over the years. _Funny,_ she’d never really thought to ask Aerith what she got back out of those “conversations”. But now, seeing Marlene doing the same… she wished she had.

Elmyra had been packing all day, but took a break to watch the little girl from the hallway, tenderness filling her own heart. She was looking at the flowers as one drop of moisture traveled down a petal, dripping to the floor; and too her surprise, Marlene turned, with a sudden gasp of “Daddy?”

_Heartbreaking._ She wondered what had so suddenly drawn the child’s attention. “You’ll see him soon,” she assured the little girl, stepping into the room. Marlene looked up at her, trusting; she softly brushed her hair back from her face. “But now, we’ve gotta get ready to go too.”

She’d spent the day packing, preparing the house for lockup; wondering when, if ever, she would be back. _Surprising, really, how many things you can leave behind._ Beyond the basic clothing and supplies, there were a few mementoes of her husband, of Aerith’s childhood, that she wouldn’t leave behind. She packed up some of Aerith’s old clothes, sizing up Marlene – she was a little big for her age, perhaps soon Marlene would have the chance to wear those clothes herself. Elmyra cherished the idea – like experiencing her own little girl’s childhood all over again.

The chocobo carriage driver hoisted up the suitcases, as Elmyra gave him the address of an inn she knew in Kalm. They’d find something more permanent there soon enough, but first things first. For now, she just wanted to get out of Midgar.

_Her husband gone; Aerith, unlikely to return._ Nothing left to make Midgar her home. Needing reassurance herself, she took Marlene’s tiny hand in hers.

Their luggage, too heavy, was transported for them, but even if it hadn’t been cost prohibitive, there was another reason why Elmyra wanted to travel by foot, the way most people made the journey to the nearby town. Sticking to the Shinra-patrolled highway, she didn’t anticipate any danger.

The _real_ reward came when they finally, _finally,_ stepped outside the city gates; too soon for the air to be changed – the pollution would only begin to dissipate miles out – but one change was immediate.

Marlene raised her head straight up, gaping in awe. _Her first time seeing the sky._ Aerith had been so terrified; but Marlene, despite the many similarities, was not Aerith, and as she gazed forward and up, a smile lit up her entire face. And then she laughed, a sound of pure joy, catching Elmyra in its grasp as well.

She looked up to Elmyra, giving the woman’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s go!”


	36. December 16 - December 19, 0007

The flowers waved weakly, gusts of wind driving through the crumbling walls of the church. Kunsel just stared at them, this time in confusion rather than fascination. Somehow, it felt so strange to him that they should still bloom here, silent and lonely, even with their mistress gone far away.

He’d gone first to Aerith’s house, finding it locked up tight enough to already give an air of long abandonment, though he knew it had been mere days. He’d wondered if Aerith and her mother had any intention to return, or if they’d find somewhere new to settle down together. Kunsel could hardly blame them – even as he wondered how they’d escaped so easily, in Aerith’s case out of the Shinra building itself. Stranger still, there was no sign of pursuit, and therefore no trail for him to follow.

Few in Sector Five had actually seen Elmyra leave, though nearly everyone knew of her absence, and words of worry and consolation came from all quarters. Seemed Zack was not the only one besotted with Aerith, making the series of events that had befallen her all the more tragic.

But he’d located a handful who had personally witnessed Aerith’s mother depart – there were mentions of a little girl. About the right age… Kunsel quickly dismissed the notion, _impossible_. After what Aerith had told him those years ago… the sheer magnitude of coincidence that would require, was inconceivable.

He brushed a hand through mouse-brown hair, a match to eyes that glowed more subtly than most with mako, a golden tinge where others bore shocking blue. Zack’s eye color had changed; his hadn’t. One of those unpredictable effects, but Kunsel didn’t mind. Average height, average build (if more toned than most) - he’d been told he was inconspicuous, and that suited his purposes just fine. Especially now.

He wondered how long it would take Midgar’s pollution to win the battle against the expanse of flowers surrounding Elmyra’s little house. Or would the blossoms stubbornly fight on, for Aerith’s sake?

In the meantime, he was left with nothing. No hope of Zack’s return; no sign of Aerith.

Nothing but a lone soldier in a lonelier church, wishing he knew more than he did.

*******

_Ever since Kalm…_

Cloud tossed and turned, his sleep it seemed forever interrupted, lost in that milky-white mist that was starting to feel like home. _Tifa_ … she had just _sat_ there, but she was _there_ that day, wasn’t she? She had to have been… could it be his memories were wrong?

Why hadn’t she SAID something? Backed him up when the others were looking at him like he was making it all up?

The door opened, and he heard her unmistakable steps. Assuming he was sleeping, she didn’t turn on the light. Tossing the covers back, he rolled to his feet, taking advantage of this chance moment to pry some answers out of her.

_Tifa, help me…_

She was leaning over her bag, tail of hair sweeping the floor beside her. He snuck up behind her, and as she straightened, he caught her around her waist; she whirled inside his arms, fists already raised at the ready.

“What are you doing, Cloud?” she asked, half-panicked, slowly lowering her gloves as she recognized him.

He ignored the question. “Tifa, where were you in Nibelheim? When did we see each other?”

She flinched, and he _knew_. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She laughed nervously. “What are you talking about, Cloud? I led you up the mountain. You remember, right?” She met his eyes, nervous, seeking affirmation; but somehow trust would not come to his gaze. “I… we should go, Cloud. Something’s happening outside.”

He let her slip away, delaying joining the others for a few moments more. His worries were not relieved; they were far more intensified.

_Help me feel like I’m not crazy…_

*******

_Am I crazy?_

That was what Cloud found himself wondering once again. Reno and Rude had disappeared somewhere into the sweltering tropical jungle after the most cursory of fights. Cloud’s group remained, facing the ruined reactor in the distance, crowning the only outpost of civilization in this section of the world.

_Gongaga._ They’d followed Sephiroth’s trail to here, but if the man had indeed come through, he'd left little trace. The Turks had wisely abandoned this dead-end lead. Still, Cloud couldn’t bring himself to leave; he felt something uncomfortably familiar here, settling like an unscratchable itch between his shoulder blades.

He let the feeling roll off like water. _Shinra had a reactor here – of COURSE I would have heard of it at some point –_ but he could recollect neither hearing of the reactor itself or its apparent destruction. Even after quitting Shinra at Nibelheim, news like that would have traveled to globe to – well, _wherever_ he had been at the time.

_Damn, it was irritating not knowing these things._

“What _were_ they talking about?” he asked, shrugging, returning to the Turks’ strange, overheard conversation. It had been the girls who’d caught their voices first, alerting him, he catching only a few words out of context at the end.

Aerith exchanged a glance with Tifa. _Oh, Cloud, you are so charmingly clueless sometimes…_ Reno and Rude’s girl talk was just silliness, but she had to admit her heart jumped in surprise at the mention of Tseng. She’d known, surely, that he harbored feelings for her deeper than he let on – there could be no other explanation for some of his actions – but it was just so… _bizarre_ … hearing it confirmed. _Does he still?_ That new Turk, Elena – could she be the one to change his mind? And did Aerith _want_ him to? A jelly little she-devil inside wanted to keep his protection, borne OF that affection.

She glanced back to Cloud. _I’m not in Midgar anymore. I can’t count on Tseng_ – he’d been left behind along with Shinra and Shinra’s city – and from what he’d said at the mines, that was where he would stay. At least as far as Aerith was concerned. Another figure of her past, now lost to circumstance to be buried in the pages of her history – and she couldn’t help but mourn, just a bit.

Tifa, for her party, was thoroughly shaken. _Rude… what the…?_ She never would have expected. He’d always seemed at least a little… _decorous_? towards her. But what she’d overheard from him… _“Mmm… that body... and that impossible hair… and strength and a charming personality besides. What guy wouldn’t want that?”_ She’d briefly blushed, but a small, sly part of her wondered. Did she have an unexpected ally in the Turks? _And did Cloud really take in what Rude was saying?_

_Really, just when you think things couldn’t get any more confusing…_ She looked back to Cloud, the man looking at the road ahead; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aerith glancing towards Cloud as well.

Tifa berated herself – when did she start getting so manipulative, anyway? Deep down, she knew the answer to her own question – to protect those she cared about, she’d do whatever needed to be done.

Which begged the question of who was saving who.

With Cloud, she sort-of-always wondered, ever more so after their conversation in Junon. Now, waiting for his lead, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

Cloud was ever conscious of his companions behind him, but at the moment… _Aerith…_ she worried him the most...

*******

_Ever since Cloud had uttered the name of their destination, she had been visibly tense. Once or twice, he had seen her overtly upset, stray unshed tears diluting her eyes._

_One of those times, Tifa had gone to her, placing a concerned hand on the other woman’s shoulder. Cloud had been too far away to hear their hushed words, but he could see them in the distance, Aerith finally shaking her head and Tifa pulling away. Tifa stood there for a moment, hand raised as if unconvinced; but let it drop a moment later, walking away to leave her friend in uncharted solitude._

_Cloud knew he was certainly no better than Tifa for comfort. In fact (here he had to be honest with himself) he was actually quite a bit worse. Still, he was the team’s leader, and he had a responsibility to those under his command._

_As the fire crackled down one night, Aerith remained the sullen self she had become, staring into the flames as if their vaporous flickers could provide some answers. Maybe to her, they could – Cloud certainly couldn’t find answers any which way he tried. Better a fire tell something useful to SOMEONE._

_He plopped himself on the ground, awkwardly scooching closer to her, closing the gap a little further than he’d normally feel comfortable with. She looked up, her expression showing she knew his discomfort, but she didn’t shy away as he settled himself next to her._

_“Everything okay?” He lifted his hand, a jittery imitation of Tifa, then setting it right back down on the ground – the thought of touching her in this moment somehow seeming a little, well, off._

_“Why do you ask?” she replied, forcing a smile._

_He sighed. He really was terrible at this. “Aerith…” he began, not sure what to say; but his companion bailed him out, reaching for him, her own fingertips barely grazing his forearm. He swallowed, skin prickling form the unexpected contact, uncomfortable with all the possible meanings._

_“I know, I know, I haven’t really been myself, but… I can’t really give a straight answer.” She continued on, in a practiced tone; Cloud wondered if she was repeating the same things she had already told Tifa. “It’s just… a feeling… that I’ve been getting, and it’s getting worse the closer we get to this place.” She gulped. “Kind of like a… foreboding. It’s just made me pretty emotional, I guess.”_

_She looked Cloud straight into the eyes then. “I can’t really say much more than that. Because I don’t know. Sometimes the Planet tells me these things, gives me these feelings, but it doesn’t always give me straight answers. Don’t you know what I mean?”_

_Cloud said nothing; he had nothing to add, even as those green eyes, glowing nearly as his mako-brightened own did, continued to bore into him as if to find answers the fire didn’t give. “I guess you really DON’T know,” she finally said. “Part of me was hoping you did.”_

_She withdrew into half-distance as she returned to contemplating the fire, and Cloud wondered if she was even talking to him, or just the world around them. “Cloud…” he was started out of his own reverie. “You ever feel alone? Like really, completely, alone?”_

All the time, _thought Cloud. “Sometimes,” he told her. “Don’t we all from time to time?”_

_Her expression was pained, stretched; for a brief moment, she looked so much more of the Ancient she was. “I guess maybe I shouldn’t have put it that way,” she said, apologetic. “I mean, of course we all do, but…. I’m the last Cetra, Cloud. What does that mean? What am I supposed to do?”_

_Questions Cloud could not hope to answer. He hardly knew what he was doing himself, most of the time feeling like he was just faking it. “But… we’re here for you, right?”_ I’m here for you, _was what he suddenly wanted to say. Wanted to protect this beautiful flower from all harm, from all the ugliness the world could spit out at her. He had a sudden urge to throw his arms around her, pull her close, tell her everything was going to be alright._

_If only he was sure he could keep such a promise._

_He shook his head, dizzy and dazed. Where had all THAT come from?_

_Aerith seemed to not have noticed; in fact, she seemed now to be ignoring him altogether. There was little need for him here. Reluctantly, he left Aerith brooding, and snuck back into the deep of the night._

_Aerith sat there for long minutes afterward, finding little optimism. Nevertheless, Cloud’s presence had been… a comfort. But the hour grew late, and there was little left to do but seek the pale sanctuary of sleep_

_She rose, their fire now bare sparkling embers, and turning, ran nearly into the broad chest of Barret._

_He looked down at the young woman, his warm brown eyes reflecting those last sparks; Aerith marveled at the contradictions in this powerful, brusque man. One arm bearing a weapon, the other able to scoop Marlene up to his shoulder with practiced gentleness. A metaphor, perhaps for what we all have inside._

_“You alright there, girl?” he asked._

_“I’m fine,” Aerith hedged, but Barret raised one arm, blocking her path forward._

_“If you say so.” Aerith knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. “I saw Tifa talking to you, and Spiky. I guess I figured it was my turn too. Not sure Red has much to say.”_

_Aerith couldn’t help giggling at that. The last she had seen of their four-legged companion, he had been sprawled on his back across the fire and some ways back, purring contentedly as a housecat – though he’d have been horrified at the comparison. “Yeah. I guess maybe he’s saving his words for when he gets home, huh?”_

_Barret made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Yeah. I guess that’s our next stop.” He paused. I’m kind of looking forward to it. You know, that’s where the original AVALANCHE got its start?”_

The original AVALANCHE _. Aerith remembered their leaders, turned away by Cissnei at her church._ Cissnei. What was she doing now? _Aerith had never seen the Turk at headquarters… Anyway. That AVALANCHE had been out to use her, same as the company they claimed to be saving her from. Barret’s little group here – started as a splinter cell, he’d mentioned – was genuinely concerned for her. She didn’t need the Planet to tell her that._

_“Well, anyway,” Barret told her. “I guess maybe you and me are due to learn a few things there.” He looked at her warmly; she returned his look with a smile, the first she’d really felt in days. “We haven’t much had a chance to talk, but I don’t think I ever got to properly thank you for what you did for my Marlene.”_

No, it’s I who should be thanking you, _she thought, but that wasn’t something she could say, even to those she was learning to trust. Not yet. “It was nothing,” she demurred, but Barret wasn’t having it. “No, it was plenty, girl. And don’t I know it.”_

_He looked off into the midnight-dark jungle ahead. “Don’t know if we’re going to find Sephiroth there or something else, but best get some sleep. I sure plan to.” He looked at her one last time before leaving, confirming she was okay; and Aerith tried to tell him with her eyes._

_She did feel better, somehow. Better than she had felt in a while._

*******

The encounter with the Turks left behind, Cloud led them forward through the overgrown path. Maps aside, he wondered if this truly was the way to Gongaga. He’d heard it was a backwater village, so he’d hardly been expecting much, but the scene before him looked like nothing but charred, contaminated ground.

“The reactor here,” Barret told him. “Just like the one in Corel. Wrecked everything around it, leaving nothing but rocks and shit.” He kicked a stone for good measure.

“Terrorists… here, too?” Cloud remembered Barret’s story of the destruction at Corel, the reactor a burned out husk, though when they’d traveled through it had seemed intact – good as new, almost. (“Rebuilt by Shinra to cover it up,” Barret had scornfully explained.) Guilt bubbled up, its oil-slick surface reflecting images of Sector Eight. Now that he’d had the chance to REALLY see what the destruction of a reactor could do…

“Nah, this one kinda malfunctioned.” Ha laughed scornfully. “Kinda. What am I sayin’? It wasn’t like it was a malfunction, those were Shinra’s words. This was a full-on fuckin’ disaster. Decimated, this town. Lots of people killed. And they had the gall to just call it a malfunction.”

Tifa was glued to Cloud’s side, concern creasing her pretty features, while Aerith drifted behind, quietly taking it all in. Tifa put a hand on his arm, and he flinched; hurt tickled her concern, and Cloud felt immediately terrible.

How could he explain to her what he did, or more accurately, _didn’t_ feel – confused, conflicted, not even sure what ABOUT – it made him pull back into his shell, wanting sometimes to just huddle away from it all and let the world fix itself. How had he let himself be chosen as leader? But for all their sakes, he’d fill the role as best he could, even as he was plagued by self-doubt.

He didn’t have the luxury to do otherwise.

Aerith had experienced her brief moment of levity after the Turks, but now she drooped again, lagging at the rear of the group and her mood returned much to what it had been the night before. If anything, it seemed to have worsened.

_Aerith…_ an idle something occurred to him. Aerith had that ephemeral tie to the Planet, haunting her with some greater purpose and the unknown future she’d set out to find – but it was Tifa who day by day looked out for them all, her quiet caring extending to whomever needed it most – often _him_ , trying in her little ways to make him feel better, endlessly persistent even when she found no success.

He wished he could shake the feeling that her concern was misplaced. But there she was, making sure everyone ate and slept, subtly checking on everyone’s mood, glue holding them together in the most mundane of ways. Two women, their differences complementary in so many ways, and both tied to him with strings of different colors.

Rough houses, dirt pathways, were all there was of Gongaga to greet them. Backwater was one thing – but, Cloud thought, this was positively _backwards_ as he looked around at oil lamps and well-drawn water. Some inquiries with the villagers revealed why. Suspicious at first of the group, until Tifa, with her approachable demeanor – and Barret, perhaps through sheer presence – assured them that no, they were not affiliated with Shinra in any way, couldn’t stand them in fact. Then and only then could the townspeople be persuaded to open up to the strangers in their midst.

All over each other now, they prattled the story of the day the reactor exploded, all the lives that were lost, barely a family untouched. Their choice to move back to nature, life before mako – the promise of comfort was not worth any more lives. Shinra, for their part, was uninterested in rebuilding for an ungrateful public – nothing had been heard from them since bare rumors of an appearance months before – but whoever had been in that helicopter had left without a word.

Here the woman who had been telling the story stopped, considering. “Now, you seem trustworthy enough, young lady” she told Tifa – “but HIM – “ here she gestured to Cloud – “he’s got those glowing eyes. You SURE he’s not one of them?”

Cloud’s voice was flat and dry, but underneath it covered up a cold fury. “I WAS one of them,” he emphasized. “Not anymore. I’ve got my reasons. They took plenty from me too.”

The woman harrumphed, obviously unconvinced; but she seemed taken enough by Tifa to override her doubts about this mismatched group. “Well, then,” she said. “Perhaps you should pay a visit to the Fairs. Lucky enough to survive the explosion, both of them – you’d think after something like THAT, their son would come running back, but no. Ran away to join SOLDIER – so young, too. Maybe you could give them some kind of explanation why they didn’t hear from him. Hey, maybe you even knew him… What was the boy’s name again?”

“Zack,” came Aerith’s strangled response, and Cloud turned to see the blood drained from her face. Pale and fragile, she suddenly seemed – and Cloud’s heart went out to her. _I’m here for you,_ he tried to send the silent sentiment – but she was somewhere so far away, someplace he couldn’t hope to reach.

Turning to Tifa, he was surprised to see her equally shaken, and he could only shrug in confusion. Why was _Tifa_ upset by some word of a random SOLDIER? He hoped someone would think to clue him in. Who was this Zack guy anyway? Some bastard he must have been, not even checking if his parents were alright, after a reactor had EXPLODED _._

_At least I was THERE to see my town destroyed,_ he thought bitterly. _To see my mother die._

Nevertheless, a lead was a lead for… Well. _Some_ kind of information. Whatever. They’d certainly learned nothing about Sephiroth here. “Show me where their house is,” he ordered curtly; the unimpressed woman glared, disapproving, but pointed out the location anyway. The residence lay at the border of the village, just at the edge of the creeping jungle. Cloud wordlessly turned towards it, the Buster Sword straight and firm on his back, as if it was propelling him forward.

Behind him, Tifa fell into step with Aerith, the two of them chattering in hushed whispers, he could only pick up the one word. _Zack._ It made him twitch unaccountably; avoiding the discomfort, he closed his ears…

“You knew Zack?” Tifa asked Aerith, surprised.

Aerith sighed gently, a long, drawn-out breath. There was so much she didn’t feel ready to tell. Not to Tifa, not in any way that might risk crushing her heart, and not Cloud… Well. She was still unsure where that line of thought and emotion was leading her.

“I did,” she replied, her tone final, trying to dissuade the other woman from asking more. “You did, too…” she angled carefully, pausing to gauge the other’s response.

Tifa answered no faster and no less reluctantly than Aerith herself. “He came,” she finally said. “To… Nibelheim…. Once.” So. Some random mission of Zack’s where they’d crossed paths; but then Tifa firmly clammed up, saying no more. Another woman with secrets she didn’t want to reveal. Aerith desperately wanted to pry, but simple fairness dictated she couldn’t get answers without first providing some of her own.

Still, Aerith had her reasons for keeping secrets – reasons that had nothing to do with what they were doing on this journey. It helped no one to share. But Tifa… she was the only one of them who knew Cloud more than the slightest, knew him way back when… and it was obvious there was something she wasn’t telling.

The other woman had the key, somehow, in words she wouldn’t speak. The way she looked at Cloud – her heart as plain as day. Had been from the start.

So _why?_ Why _wouldn’t_ she do whatever she could to help a man they both - they ALL cared about?

As much as she liked Tifa, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of hatred in that moment. Shamefully, she pushed it back down. _We can’t help what we feel… only how we choose to act on it._ An attraction she couldn’t help, didn’t understand, even as she faked indifference. _There is something very special about him. I’ve never met anyone like him before._ That’s how she’d described Zack, with the newness of budding emotion. Was it possible to experience that twice in a lifetime?

“Don’t tell Cloud,” Tifa suddenly urged, as if defending herself from Aerith’s unspoken thoughts.

“All… right” Aerith agreed reluctantly. Not until she knew more about the secrets Tifa carried within.

“But I can’t believe it, you knew Zack,” Tifa chattered on nervously, repeating the same sentiment over and over, until Aerith finally interrupted with a question that had been tormenting her own mind. “I wonder why Cloud doesn’t know Zack? I mean, they were in the same class in SOLDIER.”

“That’s a good question,” Tifa agreed. _First Class. We’re a small, elite group._ That’s what Zack had told her – They MUST have crossed paths somewhere, unless – She had no idea how to fill in that blank. _Nibelheim_. Too many inconsistencies. She recalled the single photo, two First Class SOLDIERs towering over the skinny teenage girl between them… a photo lost to ashes. She wished she had that photo now. Would it have made a difference? _Zack had been in Nibelheim. Aerith knew Zack._ How did it all come together, where were the connections still unseen? She felt so close, just on the verge of understanding… _something…_ but before her, nothing but a broken bridge she couldn’t cross.

_A bridge…_ When Cloud had told them about Nibelheim, one part stuck with her – he recalled the bridge breaking, he catching her. _That hadn’t happened – she’d already been across._ Why had he inserted that one aberrant detail in otherwise near-perfect recollection?

Looking forward at the man she followed… she wished she had the courage to ask.

They’d reached their destination. Cloud rapped soundly on the front door; it opened to reveal a couple not quite elderly, but just at the border of being so. Twin unreadable expressions, then the wife’s eyes suddenly widened, she inhaling sharply. Tifa knew what must have startled her so.

_Cloud’s Mako eyes…_

_…she must know what that meant._

Tifa nudged Cloud aside, trying to put on her most welcoming smile. “Excuse me – is this the Fair household?” she asked. “We heard you had a son named Zack…”

“Zack?” the man asked, pained worry and sadness creased across his brow. Behind him, his speechless wife gasped, a visible tremor wracking her body; Tifa thought she saw tears threatening. “Do you know him?” her husband asked. “Do you know our son?”

_No_ , Tifa was about to say. “Yes,” Aerith spoke up behind her.

Two pairs of weary eyes turned to look at the girl in pink. Tifa felt compassion emanating from her friend’s graceful bearing. “Come in… please…” the man invited weakly.

Cloud stepped inside, followed by Aerith and Tifa; the room being Tiny, the others remained outside. They could hear Yuffie’s endless chatter, Barret’s rumbling baritone in response, picture Red stoically tolerating their human antics. Zack’s mother fussed, offering them a seat, some tea or coffee. Cloud remained solidly standing; Tifa and Aerith took seats, Tifa politely protesting _no really, don’t go to any trouble._ Aerith only looked confused and numb. Tifa wished she could read her friend’s mind as easily as Aerith seemed to read hers.

“You have to understand… this is quite a shock to us,” Zack’s father began, addressing his unexpected visitors. His wife stood by his side, nodding in solidarity. “He left so suddenly… Country life wasn’t for him. We knew that from the start…. But to have so little word from him… we couldn’t help but worry, and then you just showing up on our doorstep, asking about him after all this time…” His eyes flickered, darting to Cloud in particular.

“He wrote us several years ago – that was the only letter we got. He said he’d found a girlfriend – must’ve been so proud to announce that.” Zack’s mother paused for a moment. “Well, we just figured she’d kept him distracted after that, but as time dragged on….” She looked pointedly at Aerith. “That must have been you, then?” she asked softly.

Aerith shifted uncomfortably, trying to control the chaos of emotions swirling inside. _He wrote them about me…?_ Tears were going to burst, and she couldn’t do anything to stop them. She didn’t want anyone seeing her like this… she ran for the door, out into the village, desperate for a place where she could let the sobs come unhindered.

Cloud watched after the distraught girl, torn, wondering if he should follow her. Turning to Tifa, looking for guidance; but she only stood stiffly before saying the one word, “Zack…” before she, too fled the house.

The door slammed shut, leaving Cloud scratching his head, dumbfounded.

“What’s got you two?” he asked the door. The door had no answer.

Behind him, the couple was silent, but their eyes remained haunted by the loss of their son. Cloud mentally added it to his list of scores to settle with Shinra. “You should go after them,” Zack’s father urged. Beside him, his wife nodded, and with one last look for approval, Cloud grasped the knob of the front door.

He was just about to exit when he heard the wife ask, “And which lady is yours?”

He pretended he hadn’t heard.

_Zack…_ That name sounded so familiar. Yet for the life of him, he couldn’t remember actually _hearing_ it. A First Class SOLDIER? Must’ve run across the guy somewhere, at least some rumors about him, but with all the holes in his memory, who knows what was missing?

He needed to fill in those gaps somehow. _What did Tifa know? What did Aerith?_

He glanced around, surveying the sparsely populated village. A glimmer of pink behind that house over there, a tail of dark hair behind another – Who first? Damn, he didn’t know how to deal with ONE upset female, let alone two.

Split responsibilities - he had to decide. _Keep it simple_. Aerith had left first. He went to her.

  
Aerith huddled behind one of the stores, looking away into nothing; wiping a hand across her face when she saw him. For the moment, at least, tears seemed to be gone. But her eyes were rimmed red, and she sniffled as if the tears could erupt any moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I, uh… I didn’t know Zack was from here. He… he was the first love I told you about.” Cloud nodded once, hoping he projected compassion; he must have, since she continued. “I worried… he went missing after a job five years ago.” _Before she had a chance to tell him…_ “You would think he would have at least let his parents know, right?” _Eighty-nine letters. How does one measure a love? Is it by secrets never told?_ “It was probably me.” _But your parents, too? What happened to you, Zack?_ “He really loved women… a real ladies’ man.” _The way he touched her with reverence, whispering words of love with fingers and lips on her body._ _They lying together in the church, she nude amongst the flowers, he describing the beauty of a woman’s curves…_ “He probably… found someone else.” _Better that – than –_

She realized she had started crying again; she moved to cover her eyes. Cloud reached out a hand robotically, as if involuntary; it stayed there, hanging for a moment, before he retracted it, purely confused. “No one could take your place, Aerith,” he told her, but the glow in his eyes was dull as she searched for answers in his turquoise stare. For just a moment she was breathless as she saw –

\- it was gone as quickly as it had shown, leaving her wondering what was behind that window, the curtains now shut tight. The barest glimpse of his true self, and now it was gone.

Whatever…. _that_ … _had_ been, it rapidly crumbled into awkwardness. Cloud dropped his hand, clearing his throat for lack of anything to say. Aerith averted her eyes, hoping to spare them both any further embarrassment, allowing him to make a discreet exit.

His mind was swimming. _What had just happened there?_ Something he wanted, _craved_ even… but WHAT?!? Nothing that lent itself to a simple answer.

Roughly, he shoved the question away. He had responsibilities to meet.

_Tifa…_ he found her at the opposite end of the village, staring up at the ruined reactor. She turned at his approach, guilt washing over her face before she whisked her head away again. That was all the confirmation he needed.

_She was hiding something… _why wouldn’t she tell him?

“You knew Zack.” His words, as simple and direct as ever. She wanted to deny it, _no, I don’t, what, who are you talking about –_ but he reached for her face, softly cupping her chin, turning her to look at him. She swallowed hard, silence her only protection left. “Tifa… tell me,” he urged. Behind that, the unspoken question: _don’t you trust me?_

Tifa wished she could tell him, it’s not that simple. “Does it matter?” she asked, bitterly. “Just another guy, running off to join SOLDIER, same as you did…” Her own resentment surprised her. _And then, Cloud, you never came back…_

He was taken aback by her harsh words; regretful, she backpedaled hastily. “But… you made it in, didn’t you? I really respect you for that. I’m – “ here she gulped – “really proud of you, Cloud. It’s – almost like I made it in myself.” And she realized, she meant every word of that, too. He really did it, he’d become what he said he would, hadn’t he?

“I…” Cloud trailed off, response uncertain. Tifa’s eyes looked at him with the shining trust he craved from her. That he’d needed, ever since they’d clinched a childhood promise under starry skies, when he’d realized he’d been given the chance to earn it.

He’d made it into SOLDIER. For HER. But how? He couldn’t for the life of him remember, and he was getting pretty tired of this shit.

He shook his head, a vain attempt to clear it, feeling a small warm hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, ashamed – he’d upset her, but here she was soothing HIM once again. Her eyes were soft, melting autumn warmth, but in the rear, a heat he couldn’t deny. Flames licked around the edges as he felt something – electric. Captivating. DIFFERENT.

She realized he was staring at her. _Too much._ Tifa wanted to look into those eyes forever… they tempted her with _wanting_ and _needing_ , but were still on the other side of the invisible barrier of the truth; she wished she could tell him, but shied away once again. _Too much, too soon –_ and hoping she wouldn’t regret this choice later –

“We should go, she told him, calm and firm, denying her pounding heart.

Cloud nodded dumbly. “I think we’re done here,” he replied, and together they turned to leave Gongaga, and the ruins of its memories behind.

*******

Cissnei withdrew her head from the corner where she’d been peeking, watching the rogue party depart.

She’d first been prepared with an excuse, in the unfortunate circumstance that she was seen. _Checking on Zack’s parents._ She’d done that sporadically through the years, doing her part as well to keep them under Shinra’s radar. But, she realized quickly enough, that would bring up more questions than she could truthfully answer.

_Aerith deserved to know._ But Cissnei couldn’t tell her.

_Cloud…_ based on the reports, it seemed unlikely he would recognize her. But Tifa… surely _she’d_ recognize Cissnei. How long before they pried her for answers? Would they realize she could untangle all their confusion?

But she wouldn’t. _Too much, too soon._

Now, she could only be grateful she hadn’t been spotted. Then again, stealth wasn’t exactly the strength of this little AVALANCHE offshoot.

She’d been tailing the group ever since they left Midgar, sometimes behind, sometimes a hop in a helicopter to get ahead – the mobile unit Tseng himself could not be. Officially, keeping an eye on them to stop Shinra’s – _Rufus’s –_ pursuit of Sephiroth, their new stated goal, the man they now thought was their best chance to get to the Promised Land. But her hidden, secondary mission the same as it always had been – two she was following, and even beyond that, her own personal mission, a third trail Tseng didn’t know about.

Destinies unexpectedly intertwined the consequences unknown.

And she found herself wound up tighter and tighter, the closer they – and she – got to _there._

_NIBELHEIM…_

*******

**_…drifting…_ **

…that was the feeling he’d become accustomed to above all else, here in this luminal world…

He felt the _tug._ The temptation to let go, to join the souls of the Lifestream as one, find eternal joy and peace. But that was for those who had no business left with THIS world.

Zack was not one of those.

_Aerith…_ guiding him like a light (even as there was no true light to be seen, everything being as one to whatever comprised his senses now…) a splotch of _emotion_ , the lingering bonds of love, giving him at least the vague sense that she was _there_.

Was she well? Was she happy?

Did she miss him?

Had she moved on?

**_…of course, he had his hopes for that…_ **

and then… Cloud…

He hadn’t been able to figure it out at first. Why he had been able to follow the man – even from the start, as Zack’s spirit rose from the material world, leaving Cloud to himself, traversing the plains to Midgar. Carrying Zack’s dreams and honor on his shoulders, in the most literal sense. Another spot of light, different in character but no less drawn to his sixth and seventh senses.

Eventually, he realized – that was _exactly_ what it was. _The sword._ A talisman of sorts, from his mentor to his protégé, a continuous line of hope that let Zack follow Cloud, feeling him as he grew closer, closer to Aerith –

\- until finally, the chance came, and he **_reached,_** just a bit further, a spiritual push to a literal drop.

**_Cloud… and Aerith._** The two people that meant more than any other to him. He could no longer be there for his love. And Cloud – Tifa was dead, her young life snuffed out in the reactor that day. Cloud was not Zack, but perhaps they could find a sort of chemistry all their own – and just maybe, some happiness. Together.

He sent out his wordless wishes.

**_Cloud… take care of her for me…_ **

****

**_…love her for me._ **


	37. December 20, 0007

The sky began to paint desert shades of red, the reflections of the sparkling red rocks that built the walls of Cosmo Canyon, the town that lay buried in the walls and the gullies in the near distance. Red XIII could smell the wind’s greeting. The scent of _home_ , of _feeling_ as much as place – the odor he had dearly missed in the sterile environment of Shinra, in his unwilling time under Hojo’s care.

Part of him wanted to race ahead, imagined himself eating up the ground with long-loping strides back to the place he knew and loved. Cosmo Canyon -where his race swore to protect those who wanted nothing more than to continue their study of the Planet, unmolested in those sacred surroundings.

Part of him wanted to lag behind.

_This strange, impatient group of humans…_ for a while, they had been merely companions along the way, travelers that happened to be going in the same direction. But now, their roads on the brink of parting ways, he realized he had formed an attachment to his small pack - even considering them as friends - and he found himself less eager to separate.

Aerith, in particular. He had always wished to meet a Cetra, despairing of ever doing so as he learned of their numbers dwindling into nonexistence. The race most finely attuned to the Planet, the young woman’s sensitivity far exceeding his grandfather’s own. Her barest touch had opened his third eye to a world of possibilities – knowledge he had previously only imagined, revealed to him in the span of a moment.

Yet for all Aerith’s connection to their world, she seemed so frail in her Cetra skin, so lost about her place in the grander picture. No one to guide her, to tell her the story of her own people – give her the knowledge she needed to greet her destiny, whatever the Planet wanted for this last of their Chosen.

Perhaps he could return her a favor of sorts; here, the inhabitants could help lead her to a deeper understanding. His eyes flicked to the horizon by instinct, noting the first peek of his grandfather’s familiar observatory. No stewards of the Planet here, mere students – observing, learning, recording for future generations the benefit of their endeavors, for however long their Planet might live. Red worried it might not be that long. Bugenhagen had said as much – despair leaching through the screams of the Planet that echoed through the canyon and to the observatory’s peak.

The gate appeared, and he could wait no longer, the man at the entrance gasping in surprise. “Nanaki?!?” He bowed, deep and reverent. “The stars had given us the hope you might be home soon. Please, Bugenhagen will want to see you.” He looked beyond. “And these, who are your companions?”

“Nanaki?” Cloud asked, surprised. “Who is _that_?”

The man looked affronted. “NANAKI is Nanaki.”

Nanaki tilted his head towards the rest. “Friends, if you please. They have come with me. I think perhaps they would be interested in the Study of Planet Life as well.” The gatekeeper stood aside, and Nanaki led them forward.

Cosmo Canyon rose above them, emerging from the rock itself, structures blending in harmony up the side of the cliff. They entered into a town square of sorts, centered around a blazing fire on a slightly upraised dais. “The Cosmo Candle,” Nanaki noted. “A holy flame protecting this canyon.”

Yuffie glanced over. “Do you, like, roast chickens over that or what?”

Nanaki looked affronted. “I’m a vegetarian.”

He turned away, leading the party onward and up the stairs to the higher platforms of his home.

********

Red – _Nanaki,_ she was going to have to get used to that, of _course_ he had a real name – rode the platform elevator along with the party and his grandfather, the disc stopping at a place he had clearly been before. Above, a dome enclosed them, not unlike the Cosmos Theater back in the Shinra building – the one that had left that horrid scene of destruction at the end. Idly, Tifa wondered how something of this technology could be seen out here – did Shinra have some hand in its workings, or perhaps Shinra got the idea from them? Then again, she supposed it didn’t matter.

Perhaps it was because they were now so far from Shinra, or maybe she was just more prepared what to expect. But as the lights dimmed and the floor seemed to vanish beneath her, she was fascinated rather than afraid. Surrounding visions made her feel as if she was standing in empty air - or, more accurately, empty _space_ , as an imagined representation of the universe burst into focus; suddenly self-conscious, she was lashed with an awareness of how small she really _was_ in the grand scheme of things.

A sweep of stars bloomed across her vision. _Stars._ She hadn’t seen them for five long years in Midgar, not truly, barring the occasional glimpse between sections of plate. Now that she had left Midgar, she found herself night after night awed at the open sky, the brush of the galaxy a sweet taste of reminiscence for a town and a home now lost.

A shooting star dashed by; Tifa gasped, flooded with the memories of a night at the water tower, a promise under the stars. Very deliberately, she did _not_ look at Cloud, instead to Aerith, batting playfully at a holographic planet and its moons drifting past her face.

Bugenhagen droned on, his voice sonorous and hypnotic as he explained mako, spirit energy, the Lifestream – _The Lifestream_. A vague concept accompanying Tifa as she grew up, something of story and myth – a subtle comfort to her after her mother died. It had never truly hit her that there might be truth behind those legends, and now to discover it existed in such a tangible way – The river of souls, encircling the Planet; she couldn’t help but picture a warm fuzzy blanket encircling the earth, nestling over her, and a soft sense of peace settled into her soul.

Aerith just gazed, her mind lost in the distance, entranced. She breathed the knowledge in, a story known somewhere deep within her bones and blood, watching the globe spin before her in tandem with her own heart beating.

Watching the images unfurl before her, visceral sensations of beauty and perfection, able to _feel_ as well as see the flow of spirit drifting over the Planet’s surface – and the vaguest spark burst into flame, _finally,_ some sense of how she belonged to it all. _The Lifestream_ – it made her realize, on a fundamental level, she was never alone; and that gave her a comfort that had been eluding her. But knowledge was only one part of the picture; how did it translate into action? So many questions still. What was she _meant_ to do? What did Shinra have to do with it all?

As the presentation closed, it was as if Bugenhagen’s wisdom met her Cetra thoughts. “If you want to know more, you should talk to the other elders,” he suggested, grabbing her eyes with his own. She nodded; dimly, she heard Barret ask a question, remarkably subdued as they all retained their amazement and awe, but she was already wondering who else she would meet here as the elevator returned them to the floor below.

Cloud mulled, uncertain what to think of what he’d just seen. Yuffie and Cait had already careened out of the room; Red just calmly lolled in the corner of Bugenhagen’s home, before they separated into another room for privacy. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tifa and Aerith, both calmed from the near-hysteria Gongaga had induced. They chatted quietly, briefly, before they separated their own ways, descending the steps into the hollows of Cosmo’s dwellings.

Barret scratched his head; Cloud realized the man had been miraculously quiet through the entire presentation, barring the communal explanations of awe and wonder. Barret cleared his throat. “Hey, Cloud. Did I tell you that AVALANCHE got its start here?”

“No,” Cloud answered quite truthfully.

He’d been sure Barret was going to expound further, but the other man only stroked his beard, pensive. “Well,” he finally said, “since we’re here… I think I oughta take a hint from Aerith and ask around myself.” With that, he ambled off, leaving Cloud alone to his own thoughts.

_The Cosmo Candle._ Yuffie had announced that’s where they were all going to meet. Head craned upwards, he decided to savor these last moments of solitude; grabbing to the ladder against the wall, he climbed to the very top, hoping the air of the canyon might sooth his muddled mind.

A full panorama of the canyon below awaited him; the sky was still blue, but just beginning to hint that there would be a night ahead. Beyond, he realized with a start, he could almost see to where his hometown once had been; strangely, that seemed in the figurative as well as literal distance. At least for this moment.

He sighed, realizing he indeed felt freer, not knowing if it was something within him, or perhaps the energy of the place itself – it seemed to hum with vibration, and he felt strangely attuned. The same as when they had heard the screams of the Planet earlier. He realized how rare it was for him to truly feel _anything_ , leaving him to cherish every bit of emotion and sensation he could.

_Every minute, every moment matters…_

…but indecision held him back.

Why did it have to be so difficult? Why did it seem like everything came at the cost of something else? His heart felt split between inspiration and lifeline, wishing somehow every feeling he was entitled to experience could somehow be preserved under glass. He considered his split responsibilities – mercenary, bodyguard, hero - the women under his care. Finding himself craving the grand passion of love, a small voice told him he didn’t know what to do with the one he had always had.

Priorities. Planning. That, he could handle. _Sephiroth._ That was his goal, wasn’t it? The rest didn’t matter. He flinched; Tifa was right, he was starting to sound like Barret. He’d thought AVALANCHE was none of his concern… but when were things ever one or the other?

The sword suddenly felt heavy and dull, and for a brief, mad, moment he considered flinging it into the valley below.

But he stopped himself, reminding himself he wasn’t ready to be done with that weapon yet.

He wondered if he would ever have that luxury.

********

Barret trudged thoughtfully through the halls, contemplating what Elder Bugah had told him. _Gast. A scientist from Shinra._ But then he left, for reasons uncertain – what had happened to him afterward? What had caused him to abandon Shinra? If he could be found, would he perhaps have been the one to join AVALANCHE too?

AVALANCHE. He had thought things were so certain, so black and white. Destroy the reactors, save the Planet – revenge or justice, let someone else sort it all out. Had he made a mistake? Telling himself it was for the ones they lost – for Marlene – was that just an excuse? Tifa’s uncertainty was infecting him; Cloud’s indifference made him jealous with its lack of pretense. And since Corel… he’d started wondering if it was nothing more than anger at himself for ever believing in Shinra.

He wondered if Aerith had any answers. To any of that.

At the other end of the hallway, a flash of pink appeared, and he spotted that very woman coming towards him, even more lost in thought than he was. As if outof habit, she reached up to her hair, patting that pink bow.

She was one of them, now, this new group surrounding him. His heart panged as he thought of the ones lost, once again thinking of his little girl, he grateful she was safe and sound with Aerith’s mom. He hadn’t forgotten the potent look Elmyra had given him as she spoke the words, _Aerith isn’t my daughter, not my real one,_ the undertones transmitting her understanding how love made of more than mere blood.

In contrast to her vibrant demeanor earlier, the Cetra’s – _Aerith’s,_ he stubbornly reminded himself, ashamed to have thought of her so callously – face seemed to have fallen, and Barret couldn’t understand why. What could have happened in the hour or so since he had last seen her, that could have prompted such a substantial shift in attitude?

“I was talking to Elder Hargo,” she told him, nothing but that cursory explanation.

A long pause followed. Barret sensed she didn’t want to say more; he had to respect her wishes. “Well,” he began, placing one hand behind his head, considering how to defuse the awkward situation. “That presentation was really something, wasn’t it? I never really thought… Mako really is ruining all of this, isn’t it?” He gestured to the worn, striped rocks around the warren of tunnels where they stood. “I mean, it really IS draining the Planet – I didn’t know how literal it was.” None of his planetology books had said it straight out, only hints and unproven theories. “I kind of had an _idea_ of how it works… but until now…” He looked straight at her. “The Planet is supposed to be for _your_ people, and we’re killing it.”

“It’s not just me – us,” Aerith told him. “Cetra are not… whole different beings, you know? Just those who learned to use what was already inside them. Hone it, refine it. But it’s not like we’re not human.” She glanced above, towards the observatory and Red. “I guess you could say we just have it easier than most, when it comes to communicating with the Planet. But anyone can hear it. Even you, Barret.”

He thought about that – and the more he mulled it over, the more he thought she might be right. He’d been speaking metaphorically when he’d ranted at Cloud in the reactor – _can’t you hear the Planet crying out in pain?_ – but maybe… just maybe… a couple times he could’ve sworn… “You really think the Planet wants to talk to ME?”

Aerith looked right at him, bearing the kindness he most fondly associated from her. “If you’re willing to listen.” But she was looking fidgety as well; Barret wondered if he’d headed into uncomfortable territory.

“Well,” he finally said, “I guess I’ll meet you at the Cosmo Candle?” He took a couple steps away, then turned once more. “Try not to think too hard, you hear me? You’re not alone. We’re all here with you.”

Aerith nodded, truly grateful, but equally relieved when Barret left her alone once again. She hurt with her need for omission. She wondered how much she could really afford to show Barret, even after he had proven himself with Marlene’s care – Cloud, Tifa, any of them.

She needed to talk to someone, get this out before it burst. Her first thought was for Tifa; and wandering along, as if her thoughts had summoned the woman, Tifa rounded the corner minutes later.

“I was just coming to find you,” Tifa told her. “We’re all down at the Candle.” Seeing Aerith’s wide-eyed surprise, she continued, “Are you okay? Do you want to… talk for a while, first?” She reached out a hand, inviting.

It was with guilt that Aerith recalled how Tifa had tried to comfort her outside Gongaga, even before Junon, and she had nothing but deflected _it’s nothing, don’t worry, you don’t need to be thinking of me so much, I’m fine really_ until an unconvinced Tifa had left her with a touch on the shoulder and _okay, but I’m here if you change your mind._

Just as with Barret, she wondered once again, if she could afford to reveal her heart that way; she’d done that once, and was still suffering from the whiplash, had already experienced consequences so dear. But her reluctance to share was hurting _Tifa,_ who wouldn’t be happy until she could be sure the others around her were as well.

And that was the fine line that would endlessly separate them, she supposed. Tifa’s interests were… a little closer to the heart. She had the luxury of fussing over the little things, who was sad, who was angry. Who was warm and who hadn’t eaten enough. The little things that made up a life.

She _wanted_ to talk to Tifa, she really did; but suddenly realized Cloud was the one she really needed to speak to. Cloud, another searcher, looking for who he was; in this, a kindred spirit. Distant in so many ways, but in this moment he might well be the one who understood her the most.

And with that uncanny sixth sense of hers, Tifa seemed to understand Aerith’s need to hide her emotions; as the two women fell into step, she talked about frivolous matters, about Nanaki, about the shops and the pub, maybe they should go have a drink later? “That’s not a bad idea,” Aerith half-answered, but it was to the Cosmo Candle that Aerith finally allowed Tifa to lead her.

She’d worry about it all… later.

*******

The sun was finally setting, crashed down from its zenith, lighting the red rocks of the canyon in flashes of firelight.

Aerith breathed.

At the Cosmo Candle, Red – Nanaki – had told her that these rocks were energy centers, vortexes, that changed you as you stood near them. Scientists had studied them, he said, and claimed it was a high iron content, responsible for magnetism that gave it the color and presumably its effects.

Aerith could have told them it was much more than that, something more fundamentally a part of the Planet itself. _Spirit energy_ , Bugenhagen had called it. She felt it here more strongly than any place since the church.

Between that and the machine… today had been perhaps more than she was prepared to see. Beyond the reach of her skills and senses, the touch of Cosmo Canyon was sharpening into clarity the true meaning of her heritage. Glimmers of her destiny – and it left her feeling terribly, terribly alone.

Tifa had first come up with her, leaving only when she became convinced there was nothing she could do for Aerith; the silence wore them both down. For all her gratitude, Aerith was relieved to be left to her own self-pity.

It matched the way she felt inside. She and the Planet both.

The screams of the Planet had been audible to all, but she the only one to hear its own sort of cryptic language – its hopes and dreams and underneath it all, running deep, a terror of Sephiroth that was also its vain desperate hope.

The Planet wanted to die.

Raped and murdered by humankind, its lifeblood being dredged to empty – it was old, tired, ready to give up. To reach a place of eternal rest, its own Promised Land – but then there would be no more, the inverse of creation – a single point of no return. The Cetra were the only ones who could bridge that gap and convince it otherwise, teach humankind what it needed to know and understand – but it was far, far too much for one person; no matter how much time she was given, it would never be enough.

_The Ancients had a journey long and harsh; the Promised Land was their resting place,_ Elder Hargo had told her; the words weighing heavily. A _land of supreme joy and happiness._ How could those two definitions be the same? She couldn’t help but feel a morbid draw – it was not if she was eager for death, but she was beginning to wonder if it was the only true freedom she would ever know.

Knowledge, she wanted, but now wished she could take back. It was a complicated relationship she had to freedom – somehow, it had never left her feeling free, if freedom meant losing the intricate web of connections that tied all life together. Always the last Cetra – never just Aerith. That was how Shinra saw her, and she couldn’t help but think sometimes her friends did too. Zack was able to take her away for a little while, but –

She wiped away the tears.

_Zack, did you find your freedom in the end?_

_Cloud_ … he had a long journey ahead as well. A direction he wasn’t ready to know about and a destiny for which he needed a guide. Broken, and sharpened into duality; parts of him she could see most clearly, but it drew her to him in a way she wished she could simply brush away.

If only feelings were that simple.

She could sense him drawing near, feeling relief, even a tingle of anticipation that she couldn’t deny was part physical, her body humming despite her wishes.

“Are you doing okay?” she heard his soft, even voice.

She didn’t reply, only turning halfway as his boots crunched the cliff’s gravel towards her, but at first he didn’t return her eyes. Instead, he stared at the valley beyond, the same way she had been looking just before. Aerith allowed the silence to embrace her closely, as the sun finally dimmed its orange goodbye for the evening; the rocks turned blue under the glow of a limited moon.

Together, watching, waiting. Searching.

“Thank you… for coming,” she finally told him.

He DID look at her then, eyes gently lit, near-tender. “Tifa felt you needed some company.”

“She was just here,” Aerith said. “She didn’t say anything.”

“She seemed to think I would be better right now.” He shrugged, the Buster Sword shifting with the movement – for a heartbeat her breath caught at the movement of his muscles, the raw SOLDIER power rippling under his skin. “I have no idea why.”

Aerith knew. Cloud looked to someone for trust, and Tifa was keeping secrets. She wished she could care for Cloud, find that scared little boy she saw within – but she knew, darkest fantasies notwithstanding, that she’d never make him happy. For Cloud’s own sake, she’d gladly step back. That didn’t stop the little devil in her shoulder whispering stealthy thoughts in her ear.

“Tifa said you were deep in thought.” Aerith’s hand succumbed to temptation, brushing his, just the touch against invisible hairs enough to give her electric shocks. His own hand grabbed hers roughly, tight; like an affectionate friend. He never asked what she’d been thinking about; it was a question she wasn’t sure how to answer. She’d certainly been thinking more thoughts than she wanted to relate, but underneath the one.

“I never realized how alone I really was,” she told him.

His eyes, so blue. She’d though SOLDIER eyes meant the sky. Now that she’d seen pale powder blue of the sky in full, she knew better; it was a vibrant blue of love and life, matching the softer glow of her own green ones. Mako, made of Lifestream, coursing within. How could they use that to breed SOLDIERS, those who fought and took life away?

_No, not that. Protectors._ She had to believe that.

She wished he could help as much as he wanted to. She longed futilely she could allow even more. But there were things she couldn’t afford to pretend. “No, Cloud. I know you mean well, but… you…” - she paused, deliberate - “none of you… are a Cetra. There’s just… well… things that separate us.” _This, after she’d said the exact opposite to Barret._ “There’s no one else who can do what I can.”

He dropped her hand as if stung. _Why can’t I help?_ he wondered, frustrated; had he overstepped a boundary? _Am I failing at this_ _too?_ He stood for a moment, poised, anticipating, but the silence deepened oppressively as the night set in. There was something undone, misunderstood between them, an uncrossable border.

She was drifting away from him, leaving him helpless, clueless; until, with no better option, he awkwardly turned to depart. _I said I’d come for her… and now I’m walking away._

Trudging to the bottom of the hill, he found the Cosmo Candle burning as brightly as before – more so in the dark of night – but Tifa still remained. “Nanaki’s going to stay with us,” she gave him by way of greeting.

He helped himself to the spot right next to her, relieved she didn’t scoot away. The heat warmed him, the night’s cool at his back, but with the cliffs sheltering them from the winds. “I talked to her… but I wasn’t much help, either.” Tifa nodded, acknowledging the effort; at least THAT was something. “Why are you still out here?”

“It’s late,” Tifa replied. “Everyone else left to get some sleep.”

“No, I mean why are YOU still out here?” he replied. He wondered if he could convince her to speak _now_ , though he’d already tried in Junon. To say the things he knew she hid. “What are you thinking about?”

“Bonfires,” she told him. “Don’t they… kind of remind you of things?” He nodded, but seemed unsure where she was leading.

The things it reminded her of – screams, death, pain. But things he remembered… she’d wanted to ask him ever since Kalm, when she finally understood WHY he’d thought it was five years, leaving her a tangled mess she had no idea how to deal with. She’d been trying to stand back and observe, figure it out from afar, and she’d gotten no further than at the start.

She turned carefully, wondering if now was her chance. “You know… there are things I wanted to talk to you about…”

He was suddenly tense, wary. “Yeah… there’s things I wanted to talk to you about too.” He leaned in, and she couldn’t help but feel the charge that sparked between their closeness, as he looked deep into her eyes, the temptation to fall in making her squirm uncomfortably.

“What you were telling us… at Kalm… about five years ago…” The words stopped in her gut. What if SHE was the one who was wrong? Or what if she was right, and it was nothing but false memories and the string of a promise that tied him to her now? “No… I can’t… something terrible might happen…” and even as she said it, she wondered – was she worried something terrible would happen to HIM or to HER.

_Was she just scared to lose him?_

It didn’t elude her that she might anyway.

Sometimes he felt so far away… She saw him turning to Aerith, looking for someone to trust him; and it made her feel all the more that she was betraying him with her nagging doubts… but it never was the time… she was never ready to let her heart out completely.

_Timing is everything…_

Her mouth slammed shut; he’d leaned in closer to hear, and now he could feel disappointment creep into his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should reach out and touch her; he was gripped with a desire to wrap her in his arms like he had in Aerith’s garden that night, cling to her, his one rock in a storm.

“You really are… you?” she asked, and it was like she cracked the shell of his exterior; he had no idea how to answer her without revealing his own weaknesses and fears. He couldn’t risk their warm bond, the tie that helped sustain him.

_It’s hard sometimes when someone knows you._

_Tifa… I need you… tell me I’m real._

“Tifa,” he urged, but her silence was complete.

She turned away, breaking the invisible contact between them; murmuring apologies and goodbye, goodnight, hustling herself to her feet, leaving Cloud alone with the fire as she slipped away into the darkness.

Staring into the flames… visions of Nibelheim burning flickered within. _Nibelheim._ That was where all the answers were, somehow. He wondered what they would find amongst those ashes; he wondered if it was something he was ready to find. He’d completely lost track of time when he finally rose, removing himself to their rooms at the inn.

Barret was sound asleep, snoring like a Motorball when he got there; he flopped down on to the remaining bed, so emotionally if not physically drained that he was certain sleep would not be long away.

He was restive, disturbed. The beds of the inn were simple, but they were clean and comfortable, so as much as he wished otherwise, he knew he could not blame them for his lack of sleep. Not like he didn’t have other things to blame, the experiences of the day regurgitated by his brain, over and over again. But most of all… he wished he could shake the feeling of a pair of eyes.

Those last few days in Midgar had been a flurry of activity, lots of activity and very little sleep, but in the wake of their departure, as adrenaline waned and the days seem to lighten into something passing into normalcy – he’d found himself coming down from the high of adventure and left even more vacant than before, craving the feeling all over again.

Emotional was difficult; physical was what he understood. Desperate for distraction, he let his mind drift as he reached down to wrap his hand around his cock, giving it a few firm strokes to start as images popped into his mind, his arousal rapidly increasing.

His blood rose to a boil, as he let ideas of sound and sensation travel downward to his lower half. Lazy languorous curves, catching his eye as she moved and shifted. He’d pictured her increasingly since they’d left Midgar, but tonight, urgency drove him more than ever before. Shivers of near-touch coursing through his veins. He settled into a slow, steady pace, enjoying the climb, imagining his sword-hardened calluses as softer skin, slender fingers. Pink glossy lips, wrapping around his head – and he groaned involuntarily, momentarily forgetting how near the others were – Barret just inches away, the wall between him and the women painfully thin.

He dreamed of stripping off clothes to finally reveal her in the nakedness he could only imagine. Pulling her long silky hair out of its restraint, splaying a fan on the ground… no better yet, she above him leaning forward, the ends whisking across his chest and his nipples, as he stared up at her face contorted in concentration, she working herself up and down, over and over, chasing her own satisfaction. Helping guide her with his hands balanced on the slopes of her hips – he drove the fantasy mercilessly on, here in that space where he could have anything he wanted, free of the confines of ordinary life.

His phantom hands reached up to grab scoops of yielding breasts, wondering what her nipples would look like taut and desiring; what they would feel like under his fingertips as he gently flicked them, giving them a friendly pinch and hearing her cry out, body clenching in response, her strong muscles squeezing his dick like a vise –

Bucking up he broke, the sharp peak spiking and crashing down as he spilled into his hand underneath the covers; it dripped off to harden into sticky residue, and he wondered if the hotel staff would notice.

Maybe. Suddenly, he was too tired even to care, drained of days and storm and stress and things he could not figure out tonight. Flipping to his side, even Barret’s rumbling thunder became a distant memory as he sank gratefully into deep sleep.

*******

“You _sure_ he’s coming?” Barret asked, looking upwards from the gates.

“We all heard him,” Tifa insisted firmly. “We’re waiting.”

Sure enough, minutes later, Nanaki came galloping towards them. “Wait for me!” he called down before him.

Tifa was the first to exclaim pleasure, followed shortly by Aerith. “We’re so glad to have you,” she told him. “But I thought you wanted to get home so badly. What happened to change your mind?”

Nanaki hung his head, feeling shy and bashful. “Well... Grandfather made me realize I had to grow up a little. Take on more responsibilities.” His head swiveled to scan the group. “Unless I am not welcome in your company?” They rushed all over themselves to assure him no, absolutely, they were thrilled to have him along – Yuffie even threw her arms around his neck, he deciding to tolerate reluctantly this treatment like a pet.

Cloud only gave a calm nod to him, as if of equals; a fact Nanaki appreciated coming from this strange young man. He wasn’t alone; the other inhabitants had been able to sense something different from him as well. Not something that could simply be explained by Cloud being SOLDIER – Nanaki had caught the scent of those warriors, a stark sterile scent, astringent, pure but empty – and Cloud did not bear quite the same.

Nanaki resolved to interact further, his job to observe and learn, and bring those lessons back home. He wondered what mysteries might lie ahead on this unknown journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The redness of Cosmo Canyon always reminds me of Sedona, Arizona. The energy-vortex stuff is what Sedona is known for.


	38. December 21, 0007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This chapter took me at LEAST forty hours of work to get together. I’m not kidding. Maybe more, I kind of lost track. A dedication to z3rotwooffical, Twitch streamer, because her Remake streams helped keep me company during the loooonnnggg process that was this update. Thanks!

The silhouettes on the horizon had first made their appearance as the sun began to come down from its peak. The pointed thorns peaking Mt. Nibel had shown over the curve of the Planet’s surface as soon as they had passed the tall walls of Cosmo Canyon, but there had been nothing but wide green plains laid out bare, broken only by the occasional barn or windmill, between there and them…

…until now.

Naturally, it had been Cloud’s sharpened eyes that first spotted the anomaly, but soon enough it became apparent to the rest that something was out of place. Cloud resolutely refused to elaborate, though Aerith, in particular, pried him relentlessly, as they grew closer to the inescapable conclusion of what lay ahead.

Houses. A town, even.

Tifa had been nearly as silent as Cloud, her stomach fluttering uncontrollably as old fears she’d thought she’d beaten were triggered all over again. Her head twitched over and over to him, his eyes focusing sharply on the objective just like the SOLDIER he was, though his jaw clenched in visible tension.

As Cloud brooded, Tifa struggled to calm herself, sudden terror threatening to take her over, she reasoning with her panicked inner voice. _It’s been five years_ , she reminded herself. Perhaps people had decided to settle here – there could have been enough resources left over from the fire to make this a habitable location. Plus – as far as she knew, the reactor was still running; Shinra could very well have built a base of operations for it. There were a million ways things could be explained, but even so, it twisted the knife of losing her second home in Midgar that much harder.

Even so, she was able to retain a thin veneer of control – until they entered the gates of the mysterious settlement, and she realized what Cloud _hadn’t_ wanted to say.

Her heart wrenched deeper as she heard her mouth gasp, felt her eyes grow wide; shaking her head, she wondered if this was just some horrible dream. The buildings just as she remembered them, a morbid mirror of her childhood memories.

She wanted to reach for Cloud’s hand, the comfort of his strong grip, for _his_ sake as well as hers…. whatever THIS was, she wanted them to face it together. But he stood aside, too far to reach… and surrounded by the others, their eyes already scattering over the surroundings in confusion, she couldn’t find the courage to close the distance between them.

It all felt dissociated, surreal, her voice not her own as it croaked out the words. “It’s... exactly… the… same…” Her ears couldn’t acknowledge the hushed questions behind her; she knew she could provide no answers.

Cloud could feel everyone staring with suspicion, devoid of malicious intention but doubtless understandable. Still, that was nothing compared to the pity he felt wavering in the space between he and them. It was only Tifa’s outright shock that made it bearable, reassuring that it wasn’t only _him;_ that _those_ memories, at least, were shared and real.

“It can’t be!” He’d been struggling to maintain composure; but finally, it broke. “I remember it so well! Everything!” _The screams of the dying… intense heat of the flames…_

_The pit in his heart as he realized his mother was lost._

Cloud’s outburst jarred her further, and Tifa turned. All the doubts she’d had about him… but here, before them, a lie to both their minds. If HE was crazy…. Was she as well? Cloud himself, the only proof of her own sanity; the two of them each other’s backup as her emotions gave in to her deepest kinds of fear. What memories might SHE be missing before waking up in Midgar, that gaping hole in her own history pierced by Sephiroth’s blade?

The air wavered, making her dizzy; for a moment, she felt separate from her own skin. The world stabilized; for a moment, she thought she was going to be sick.

A heavy arm laid over her shoulders, and she realized Barret was come to her side, looking over her with worry. Nearby, the rest of her party loosely circled her; except for Aerith, talking softly to Cloud, he shaking his head vehemently.

_Kalm_ , she realized. _They’re thinking back to Cloud’s story at Kalm_ … the story that made her realize his memory problems were far worse than she’d thought. But above and beyond that, Barret in particular was the only one to whom she’d confessed the barest bones of her history, her hometown, since starting her life anew in Sector Seven. If _Barret_ lost faith in her now… she wondered if she’d have any left over for herself.

But the older man offered only compassion; she accepted gratefully as she leaned into his arm for support, unsure if her own legs would hold her up. “You okay there, girl?” he asked; she nodded weakly, not trusting herself to speak.

Cloud brushed off Aerith’s concern, glaring jealous daggers at Barret, even knowing he was being unfair. It was his OWN damn fault Tifa could rely on Barret more than he for comfort – and he clenched his fists in frustration at Tifa’s evident distress, the sense of impotence arising all over again.

Cloud had no more answers than she to the HOW of this – and the WHAT, that was sitting on front of them – _all_ of them. Anything could have happened in those blocked-out years, and it made him want to bang his head on the side of one of those resurrected houses. Maybe he could shake some answers lose.

  
Despite that, he looked around at worried faces and realized the group was still looking to _him_ for the next step. No, not him… to the leader they had made him. All he could hope to do right now was act the part, move on forward, hoping they wouldn’t decide their trust had been misplaced in him after all. “We should check the houses.”

They huddled in groups of two and three, deciding how best to split up and canvass the town, finally choosing pairs. Aerith and Red. Barret and Yuffie. Cait Sith to wait in the center, to receive and consolidate their information. No one objected when Cloud took Tifa’s hand in his, steering her firmly towards a particular pair of houses, built nearly flush against each other. A helpless flash of burning rafters caving in overlaid the daytime image before him, and for a moment, he saw double.

Shaking his head slightly, his vision filled with Tifa’s face and her eternal, gentle concern; but he dared not show weakness when she needed his strength to rely on. “I’m fine,” he demurred, and though her doubt was obvious, she let it pass as together they came to the doors of the first house.

The house pretending to be his was nothing but a wicked joke; he felt aloof and unmoved, even in what purported to be familiar surroundings. There were just enough details incorrect to reassure him this was an ugly fake – he didn’t need the words of an unfamiliar dark-haired woman to tell him that. He’d hardly expected to find his mother there, alive and well, but still… He thought of his mother, her life cut down when she was still so young and vibrant.

He wondered how a pain like that could ever stop hurting.

On the tail of that awkward experience, he’d been about to suggest they bypass the house that passed for Tifa’s… but looking at her creased, pained eyes, he realized he couldn’t deny her the chance to find whatever answers were here to be unearthed, whatever closure she could find. There would be no other chance like this one. At the base of her walkway, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and her eyes lit up gratefully. Letting his palm slip away, she strode resolutely to the door, just as he knew she would.

He trailed in her footsteps as she traversed the rooms, stopping to touch everything, letting her fingers slide with wistful reverence over walls holding neutral prints, where once had been family photos. Cloud realized with a start that he’d actually only ever been inside the one time, though as she led him up the stairs to her childhood bedroom, he remembered how he’d looked through the window so many times that it hardly mattered. He was nearly as familiar with the room as Tifa was; he as well as she could spot the incremental differences that told this room was out of place.

Still, the similarities there WERE, were striking; Tifa paused thoughtfully in front of the piano. This, at least, was so true to the original, that even _she_ could barely tell the difference. Only the relative lack of wear on the keys truly gave away its replacement. Opening the dusty cover, her slender fingers stroked the keys like a lover‘s touch; gentle tinkling broke the silence as she travelled up the scale.

She remembered, long ago, playing songs just for him, wondering and hoping if he was listening; Cloud’s covered hiding places outside never were as secret as he had thought. The girlish self she’d been trying so hard to deny welled within her, and as she looked over at him, studying something on her desk, she realized she hadn’t hardened as much as she had thought.

And Cloud was the linker between those selves old and new. _Was that good or bad?_ She didn’t know. How could she reconcile the two – the feelings of adulthood and girlhood both? She thought back to that night on the water tower –

“Tifa, you’ve got to hear this.” His voice interrupted her reminiscing; she looked up to see him staring down to a sheaf of papers in his hand. _“Periodic report to Professor Hojo.”_

“Hojo???” Tifa asked, alarmed, but he raised one finger to signal her to silence as he read on. _Clones… reunion…_ it all was a twisted confusion to Tifa until the end.

“No one knows about the incident five years ago. No one knows this town was restored exactly as it was five years ago…” Cloud looked up; an involuntary flash of fear showed, his features reflecting her own. She willingly let her legs collapse, plopping onto the piano bench, letting her body settle into a slump. Her hands idly grazed the keys, and she felt a corner of paper…

She looked down, and yanked the corner to pull out a folded sheet… aware Cloud was staring at her intently. Unfolding it, she inhaled sharply; her hand flew to her mouth in shock, as she spied her own name written.

_Tifa, what’s happened to our town?_

“What is - “ Cloud interrupted sharply, but she motioned him to the piano bench, patting the seat next to her. His expression grew progressively darker as together, they read the words of her old master Zangan.

Not their shared illusion. A bitter, inconceivable truth.

Cloud was livid with anger, and he didn’t know if it was for the event or the cover-up; but at the same time, he felt validated in his memories. And underneath it all, gratitude that this man he’d barely met had kept Tifa from harm.

After he’d failed.

Tears filled Tifa’s eyes, as a blank page of her mind filled with the ink of truth. At the same time... she’d known Nibelheim was gone, but now, she realized Zangan had shielded her from the worst knowledge. Looking at Cloud, she wondered what else had happened on the mountain that day.

_Hojo gathering up troops for experiments._

_Zack..._

Knowing what she now knew, could she ever bear to tell Aerith the truth?

Cloud readily agreed when Tifa asked him not to mention the bulk of the letter; only the things the team needed to know. Some heartbreaks were only theirs. But he had his own reasons besides. “Black cloaks... could those be the same as the clones Hojo mentioned?” he wondered aloud. _Muttering about reunion_. Why did that strike a nerve?

Why did it make him feel like time was running out?

Tifa was more convinced by Zangan’s words than Hojo’s reports, but did they corroborate each other? _Have you recovered? Are you well?_ When had he left this? How much later had he been thinking about her? Would she ever see him again? She was grateful for Cloud’s reassuring nearness, before sadness and loneliness could take it over.

But still... nothing they had found could explain Cloud’s “remembrance” of that day. _So much she still needed to know_. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, had to get out of the house and away from air that wanted to choke her. Cloud, alarmed, reached one arm hesitantly over her shoulders; a brush of skin on skin made her shiver. “Let’s go... to the water tower,” she spontaneously suggested.

Across the square, none were to be seen but Cait Sith, humming in a powered-down rest. A few quick strides took then to the well-remembered structure.

_The water tower – a memory they shared_. Of all his uncertain recollections, this one was written on Cloud’s soul with all the feelings of the promise they had made there. Of this memory, he had no doubt.

And here, Tifa beside him, just as real as she had been in that day.

She stared at him with those big shy eyes, so reminiscent of those as a girl, mellowed slightly into maturity. They stood together at the base, the sun gradually climbing down, knowing the fading light would bring the memory back in full. The question sat between them, understood - _should we climb up?_

Two adults reenacting a moment of their youth, bearing feelings evolved from the warmth of children, heating now into too much fire to handle – _not yet_.

But that train of thought reached a halt, seeding doubt - with what they knew now, would climbing to the top of this sham replica destroy the sanctity of that memory?

Nibelheim could not fill their need for nostalgia, their desperate craving for an obliterated past. It was only what lived on in their hearts and minds that could offer them serenity. They were each others’ touchstones for this reality, the residues of home - ephemeral threads binding them together that fire and time could not destroy.

Cloud wanted to say something, but as they looked at each other, he could find few words. Her presence was all he needed. “Sephiroth will pay for this,” he finally said, wondering if that would give her any comfort.

But Tifa could only look away. She wished she could share his enthusiasm, but… time and distance had done their healing work; and whatever kernel of revenge had remained, had dried out after seeing the wreckage of Sector Seven.

Cloud doubted himself in so many ways, but how could he explain to Tifa how _driven_ he felt? And for whose sake? He wanted to pay back Sephiroth not just for Nibelheim, but get some sort of satisfaction for his own missing years, the only icon he could find upon which to direct some blame. He needed to take it out on something, _someone_. Even Shinra was too diffuse an enemy for the rage that made him want to drive his sword through the SOLDIER all over again.

But Tifa… her suffering, everything she had endured, he wanted to lay at Sephiroth’s feet as well. He wished it could be that simple; but he had to share in that blame. Had he reached her in time that day – might this _all_ have been prevented?

He knew, if it came down to it, Tifa’s safety far surpassed revenge. He had a sudden urge to reach for her hand, or even pull her close as he had that night in Aerith’s garden – the warmth of her skin was locked forever in his memory, that wonderful and all-too-fleeting rush.

“I failed you,” were the surprising first words to come out of his mouth.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Was that really what he thought? He hadn’t been there _then_ , but… He’d come back to her, and deep down that had been all she’d really wanted him to. The rest was only the way she’d imagined it, before her experiences had modified that dream into something simpler and more real. Where sometimes she was his equal and sometimes he was her protector, the balance ever-shifting, sometimes she _his_ protector just as simply.

Could he be somehow pinning the failure of his entire self on the events of a single day? A day he only imagined he was there? She’d been too frightened to bring up the _real_ truth, in case it was more than he could bear. Or _she._ She needed him so badly to be real, to be the boy who had been by her side in this very spot seven years before.

_Seven years to the day,_ she realized with astonishment. How had she not put that together before?

She’d been quietly waiting and watching him for answers – to memories missing, memories wrong. But looking at him now, she decided some of it she could accept at face value - the Cloud who was here with her now. Their childhood selves were not in doubt, leaving her to consider Cloud as the man he had become. Ego, indifference, was all a front for the boy who was starting to peep through once again.

How might things have been different? What if she had leaned over and kissed him that day - if he hadn’t fallen apart in embarrassment (entirely possible) might they have had a different future? Or would they simply have ended up dead with the rest of Nibelheim?

Things could only happen as they happened; there was no way to know otherwise. She’d survived, spent years recreating herself into the woman she was now, but regretted being able to be a simple teenager, glad she’s had at least some of those experiences along the way with friends in Sector Seven. ( _Jessie_ , her heart panged.) What might it have been, too be a young couple in love?

It would never be that simple, now that the adult flames of desire had begun.

She’d been trained to focus her emotions, use the weapons in her heart and mind. But here on the flat plain plane of happiness and hurt it was getting hard. No room for revenge, there was only sadness left unresolved, things lost with the girl who had nearly died that day - or so she had thought. Cloud, the town – it was bringing it all back faster than she could handle.

“I don’t know what to say right now,” she admitted.

“What do you WANT to say?” he nudged; but she balked, and could only shake her head, eyes lowered, chin dropped.

Cloud stared at the certainty that was her before him. He was sure of how he’d felt for her back then; if nothing else, he had that surety to hold him. But now - he was more worried about what they’d just learned.

There were answers he needed, and he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling Tifa was the one who had them. He’d already tried prying her aggressively in Gongaga, Junon - now was the opportunity to ask further. What was she not telling him? What it was she _wanted_ to tell him, piqued his curiosity just as much.

But with her so visibly shaken - he couldn’t bring himself to ask. _Whatever it is, I’ll listen._ He wondered if she knew. Another silent promise, like the one he’d made to her in Aerith’s garden. He was making slow promises to her like making love, a tender touch of souls and their invisible bonds of tragedy and reunion.

She’d calmed some since leaving her house, but was still rattled, dazed. “I don’t know what is true anymore,” she told him. And most of all, how badly she needed for _him_ to be true. But false memories or not, a promise still tied him to her - his presence here was proof of that. Proud of him in so many ways, she wondered about the destiny to which he was taking her.

At some point, she’d leaned in closer; Cloud found the moment so heavy that he stepped back before he’d even realized it. He wanted to tell her, _I’m here for you_ , but rustling interrupted him; and he filed away the sentiment for later.

A shuffle drew their attention away; Barret and Yuffie stood there waiting. On the other side of the square, he saw Aerith and Nanaki exiting one of the houses.

“We went inside the inn,” Barret told him.

“Yeah, and the innkeeper said we were full of it! That nothing like that happened!” Yuffie chirped, visibly agitated, looking like a squirrel next to the bear of Barret’s solid bulk. “And there was someone mumbling in the kitchen... but the guy wouldn’t let us back to talk to him!” Yuffie shuddered visibly. “Like, he was really creepy, covered in this black cloak and shaking and muttering and everything! Almost like some kind of weird ghost!”

“Black cloak? A ghost?” Tifa asked, alarmed, but before she could say more, she heard Nanaki’s smooth, elegant voice from aside her. “Not a ghost, I believe.”

“You found something like that too,” Barret surmised.

Aerith looked more rattled than Yuffie, even. No, not rattled exactly - _dreading_ might be a better word. “You guys...” she gulped. “I... I wish you didn’t have to see this, but I think it’s important.”

After their companions’ reports, Cloud gave the abridged version of what they had found - the cover-up, the mysterious clones - but leaving out Zangan’s figures muttering _Reunion_ , the name of Sephiroth. _He’s frightened_ , Tifa noticed, the signs barely perceptible except to her practiced scrutiny - the reconstructed village had really shaken him, just as much as her. He just showed it in a different way that she hadn’t quite caught at first.

Barret blustered angrily as Cloud wrapped up their discoveries. “Unbelievable,” he snorted. “I know they rebuilt the reactor in Corel, but a whole town? Why do they care about this place so much?” Tifa couldn’t remember, maybe never knew, how their shabby-quaint town got Shinra’s interest, much less how Sephiroth had anything to do with it. With nothing to add, she looked to Aerith, who slowly nodded, and turned.

She led them to the house she and Nanaki had just exited, one Tifa remembered as belonging to a family of four. Nothing to be found in the first floor, but...

“We found beings in a similar state to what Barret and Yuffie described,” Nanaki told them, “but we believe you must see these in particular.”

Aerith looked straight at Tifa.”This could be hard,” she declared, reluctantly motioning to the stairs.

“I’m ready.” Tifa squared her shoulders, gathering courage from the kindness in her friend’s eyes.

Upstairs, what she had been primed to expect. Shaking, murmuring black-cloaked figures, smaller than she expected and then suddenly she realized…

_Children._

“Tifa?” Cloud gasped, grabbing her wrist; she could only tremble. When had tears started running down her cheeks?  
  


“I think…” she sniffled, catching her breath, “these were the survivors of Nibelheim.” _Zangan’s letter. Survivors carried away by Hojo…_

Could Shinra be that evil?

And as Cloud crouched down to one of the miniature figures, her doubts about HIM surfaced all over again. _His missing memories_. What might have happened to him in his time under Shinra’s care? She felt like she was reaching towards some kind of truth, but she was afraid, so afraid… She hadn’t even realized Aerith had drawn her close, murmuring soothing words, but despite herself Tifa felt calmer.

“Where can we get some answers?” Aerith inquired, not stopping her ministrations to a grateful Tifa.

“The reactor?” Barret wondered, then recoiled at the twin looks of horror on Cloud and Tifa’s faces. _Fuck Sephiroth. Fuck Shinra._ Fuck all of them – except Cloud, he was alright after all.

“The mansion,” Tifa prompted. “He spent all this time in the library.” She first, very carefully, did NOT look at Cloud, scanning the faces of all her companions before finally meeting his eyes.

Was it just a trick of the light, or did his pupils seem thinner?

*******

The descending staircase, the crypt-like passageway – the sense of foreboding followed Cloud through the halls, only heightened after by finding this strange man - in a _coffin_ , of all places.

_“Sephiroth has found out the secrets of the mansion?” Vincent had said. “I must go with you to know more.” His glittering red eyes had glanced from one to the other, finally settling on Cloud and practically piercing his mind. “And all this while I slept.”_

_“The secrets of the mansion?” Aerith had asked._

_More importantly… “Who are YOU?” Cloud had asked._

_Vincent was silent for a moment, lost in shadows of thought. “Once, I was a Turk,” he said. “Now, I am something different.”_

_“What do you know about Sephiroth?” Cloud asked, but Barret interrupted. “Why should we trust YOU? A Turk, he says.”_

_“Because,” Vincent intoned dramatically, “I know too well the horrors of Shinra.”_

_Cloud raised his hand to shush Barret. “WAS, he says. Don’t forget… once so was I.” Barret grumped, but didn’t argue further as Cloud motioned a voiceless welcome to Vincent. ”I want to know what he knows.”_

Vincent had led them to the end of the hall, stopping before a foreboding door that Cloud had last seen under fairly… unpleasant circumstances. The dark-cloaked man stopped, as if letting the feeling sink in, along with his words. “This mansion is the beginning of your nightmare.”

_Tell me about it,_ thought Cloud.

The door creaked open to an abandoned lab, looking as decrepit as Cloud remembered it. He stopped, turning to Cloud. “SOLDIER is not all that Shinra has done for experiments,” he said darkly, but offered no clarification.

“We know,” Tifa said, her voice coming out strangled, shuddering at the memory of those children… Already worried by Zangan’s letter, now looking around the lab… she didn’t WANT to put it all together… Cloud, the wreck she’d found him at the train station….

Aerith’s eyes wavered between her and Cloud. Tifa wanted to reach for her friend’s support, but she gathered her courage. Right now, Cloud worried her the most.

“Let’s go into the library,” he suggested, allowing Vincent to lead them to the room beyond. His eyes scanned over shelves and shelves of books, dusty and dry as the titles they bore. “Sephiroth was down here for a week…”

_I know,_ Tifa thought, realizing something right after. _I never said that._

Aerith paged at a book lying open on the table, reading aloud. “Jenova…. An Ancient found in a 20-year old stratum…”

“That is what Sephiroth was told,” Vincent replied. “But that is a lie. Jenova was never an Ancient. Gast corrected himself later…” _Gast_. The same name that she saw in the page before her. The name she believed to be her father… _what did one have to do with the other?_ A strange connection between herself and Sephiroth, yet she knew quite certainly Sephiroth was no Ancient.

She calmly resolved to ask Vincent later. She could not afford to be yet another person breaking down right now. That stage was for Cloud and Tifa at the moment.

“Sephiroth must have found out the truth here,” Vincent continued. Cloud heard a slight buzzing in his ears, felt wobbly on his feet.

“What truth?” Aerith asked.

“The truth of his origins.” Vincent swept a hand around him. “Jenova was used to create Sephiroth, the first SOLDIER.” He looked at Cloud; was it just Cloud’s imagination, or was Vincent peering at him more intently than before?

“SOLDIER, yes he was,” Aerith objected. “But he was no Ancient.”

“And that is the problem,” Vincent replied. “Gast never told him.”

“Sephiroth… he said he was the blood of the Ancients,” Cloud recalled. The buzzing grew louder; a sharp pain zapped his head.

“…Created from a mortal woman as the result of Hojo’s experiments…” Vincent’s voice droned on, sounding like it was coming from a distance.

“If only he’d been told the truth in time…” Tifa. Her voice blurred, as if through water, overshadowed by another, sinister.

_Come to me…_

It pulled at him, a tug he’d felt in slight from the small black cloaks Aerith had shown them, but it was nothing compared to this. _His mother… he said his mother was Jenova…_ and as soon as he thought the name, his head exploded from within.

He raised his head plaintively to Tifa, and suddenly he _saw_ Sephiroth behind her, grinning. Sephiroth raised his blade…

Cloud lunged forward, crashing to the floor as his body gave in and seized, only able to gasp the one word like he was vomiting it out.

_Reunion._

Footsteps ran to him and arms embraced him, and he felt a déjà vu as Tifa and Aerith leaned over him… and with their faces in mind, he succumbed to black.

Aerith ran her hands over Cloud’s unconscious form. “He’s alright, but maybe we should get him outside,” she proclaimed. Inside, she wondered. She had her suspicions of a connection, but the how and why… that, she STILL couldn’t figure out, and her sense of urgency was increasing. Beside her, Tifa, lacking the benefit of Cetra senses, just looked lost and confused.

“I will carry him,” Nanaki announced. The others expressed concern, but he nosed his back upwards, rising to bear Cloud over his back, and to everyone’s surprise, brought him up the stairs and out with uncanny agility.

Tifa was fraught with worry. _The worst I’d seen him since I’d been caring him back at Seventh Heaven…_ She’d thought he was in the clear, and then they came to THIS awful place. She hoped to never see it again; as far as she was concerned, it should’ve burned with the rest of Nibelheim that day.

By the time they reached the mansion’s gates, Cloud could stand but was visibly woozy; Barret took over from Nanaki to support him. With Cloud leaning on his shoulder, he looked up to the sky. “It’s too late to cross that mountain. Sun’s already down.”

Tifa looked to the west and saw he was right; the sun was gone from sight, only the last marks of sunset giving them fading light. She shivered at the idea of crossing the mountain in darkness, all the legends she’d heard as a child coming back to her. _The mountain is full of ghosts. Everyone who crosses it dies._ As a headstrong teenager, she had once vowed to cross; now, she was hesitant, and grateful she wouldn’t be crossing alone.

Ghosts meant nothing but loneliness to her; and even as Zangan had made loneliness one of his lessons to her, it wasn’t a state she sought. The sadness she’d felt since entering Nibelheim was weighing her down, and she wished she had someone to turn to. But Barret was holding Cloud, Aerith was obviously distracted by something, and she didn’t know either Yuffie or Vincent well enough yet.

She felt a touch, and looked down to see Nanaki brushing his nose against her palm. “He will be fine,” he told Tifa. “I could feel it when I carried him.”

Tifa so desperately needed that reassurance. “How can you be so sure?” She could hear Cloud finally talking, awkwardly.

“I can sense the strength from him.” He pointed his nose towards Cloud, before turning back to her. “From all of you.”

Tifa couldn’t help it. True or not, it brought a smile to her face. With a thankful brush of Nanaki’s mane, she moved to where Cloud was rapidly recovering. Barret stepped away; Cloud stood up straighter, if a little weakly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him.

“Better,” he said, with a small, sheepish grin. “But Barret is right, we can’t cross, and we’re certainly not staying in this town.” He wondered if Tifa realized how quickly relief shone on her face. She laughed; he was glad for the sound.

Looking into her eyes, he realized there were answers maybe here… just not in the way he had thought.

“I’m certainly not going to argue with you on that.” She was suddenly conscious of all eyes on them; at a respectful distance, but they were there. “And I don’t think anyone ELSE will argue with you.”

“Then it’s settled.” He felt his shoulders slump, the weight of the sword almost soothing rather than heavy, a crutch holding him up. He was grateful for the support as the others started to organize themselves, while in his mind he heard the echo of those final words.

_I’M COMING FOR YOU…_

*******

Cissnei had not wanted to go back to the reactor.

Cloud’s party seemed inclined to bypass it as well. She could hardly blame them. What reason would they have to revisit a place of such memories? Even so, it was a dead lead now, just another power plant humming along. No further touched by Hojo, the same as the abandoned mansion. Left alone since Cloud and Zack’s escape.

But the need for subterfuge has driven her here up into the hills ahead of them - the hills where she had first met Tifa, though she was not as lost as on that day. Then again, in another sense, she was more lost than ever. And so, she turned to the only spot on the mountain that might offer some answers.

The reactor was stale and empty, its memories a faded dream, eclipsed by all that had happened that day and its consequences.

She saw empty pods, thinking of Cloud as she’d seen him on the eastern shore, desperately mako poisoned and breaking her heart with the spirit that was lost. She looked to the chamber above, JENOVA written across the entry, wondering what it meant - a name she’d only heard here and there as a project of the science department. Her Turk soul was bothered – a secret even the Turks didn’t know – and she suspected even Tseng didn’t have the answer. How that must drive him crazy.

Their orders were explicit. Rufus had decided Sephiroth was their first and only goal. AVALANCHE, Cloud, even Aerith to be left alone, except to keep them from reaching Sephiroth first and the possible explosion that might result. The only real problem was, Cloud continued to follow the General, and Aerith was sticking with him. And the man who had joined them today… what did he know about it all?

Part of her mission here had been to keep Cloud and Tifa from finding out the truth of their hometown, though it seemed they’d got some of the answers anyway.

AVALANCHE itself, they seemed to have forgotten about. Barret’s small group was out of Midgar and no longer a nuisance they had to worry about. Not that the plate drop hadn’t stamped the group’s demise into everyone’s minds. How would the Turks live that down? She doubted the slum residents bought the story that it was AVALANCHE’s doing; their distrust of Shinra ran deep. Frankly, nowadays, Shinra disturbed her, too.

And for that reason she’d considered breaking cover, defying orders. Letting them know all the secrets she knew – the ones hid here at Nibelheim, maybe all the rest as well. Would she be doing Aerith any favors by letting her know? That her boyfriend had been Hojo’s plaything for years? It had been hard enough on the detail during her pregnancy and afterward, Cissnei finally grateful to be called off the assignment. She might give Aerith some closure; she might do nothing more than stir up pain all over again.

At least Aerith had Cloud to protect her, he and his new, unaccountable strength – it would assure Aerith’s safety quite well, if Cloud wasn’t so damn dedicated to following Sephiroth. Tifa seemed to have lessened in resolve, but Cissnei could see she, too, followed Cloud unquestioning. _Couldn’t you find something other than revenge else to drive you, Cloud? If Tifa can let go of her hate, why can’t you?_

_You could do it, Cloud._

_You could keep your promise to Tifa._

If she was honest with herself, she was a little scared of what Cloud had become. Still a wild card, unknown how it would be played. Staring at the chamber above, she gave up on the reactor telling her anything she didn’t already know.

Turning from the mysteries inside, she automatically looked to her PHS. No reception. But as she stepped outside and bars appeared, almost immediately it rang with a call from Tseng. He was brusque as always, as he gave her the message in a clipped, efficient tone. _We know where Sephiroth is heading. We have info from Reeve as well._ She tried to squeeze her own words in, to tell him Cloud’s group could not be diverted, but Tseng cut her off with a brief _Never mind,_ and the call closed with a click.

She was relieved the need was gone to tell Cloud the truth. Reports suggested he had no memory of Zack; could she bear to tell him about the friend who had cared for him, about how he’d been nothing more than a vegetable? She couldn’t deny she had a soft spot for Cloud and the values that had once shone within; she dearly hoped that hadn’t been destroyed.

She wished she could steer him from this race with Shinra; she wished she knew what he was getting out of it. If there was any way to help him, that was something she needed to know.

Back at Midgar, Tseng stared at his disconnected PHS. Truthfully, he didn’t think Cloud could be steered _any_ direction at this point; still, he wished Aerith wasn’t on the path with him, even as he hoped Cloud would keep her safe. Nothing good could come from being involved with Sephiroth. They seemed to be headed for Rocket Town next; he wondered what would happen when Cloud and Rufus again crossed paths.

As Cissnei ambled towards her designated pickup spot, she dwelled on _that_ day. Seeing the cover-up, feeling impotent and helpless. Stuck on the border, just as she was now, between following her conscience and just trying to survive.

Aerith and the others would have to make it on their own for now.

_Cloud, don’t forget that promise…_

*******

Tifa tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, mind running through the events of the day. Here in the foothills about town, the dark spines of Mt. Nibel loomed overhead, but for once those spindly crags offered up a modicum of comfort.

Not enough to help her sleep, though.

She’d thought she’d be angrier. The black cloaks, the mansion, the strangely duplicated town. But all she could feel was wellsprings of sadness and heartbreak bubbling up, even when she thought they’d been dried up long ago; recent events had nothing if not refreshed them.

And no matter how many times she turned it all over in her mind, trying to make sense of the mystery, here she was – All of it intrinsically mixed with her unidentified feelings for Cloud; one inexorably led to the other, and the dilemma struck at the most fundamental levels of her heart.

So many doors…. And Cloud, the one key.

He was her last tie to her first home, when everything else from there was lost, he returning to her life just in time for her to lose home all over again. A third time, if one counted today; Zangan had been right to tell her she’d never go home again, because this certainly wasn’t her home. Cloud, her life’s only continuous thread, and she wondered if she was clinging to him for that alone.

But no, she couldn’t believe that. He was her friend.

Right?

And floating even on top of that, there was that spark – something _new_. Something not only a fact of adulthood; with guys before, she’d never felt even half what she felt just being _near_ Cloud. More than time separated these last seven years between them. There was their gawky teenaged selves making promises about dreams under a starry sky, with no idea what the future had in store; and now they’d skipped the in-between stages, meeting again as different people, getting to know each other all over again, boy vs. man.

An awkward juxtaposition this excursion had driven home… so to speak.

She was finding herself surprised and pleased at the man he had become. Only starting to understand the depths of his kindness; the passion of his youth had melted into the softness that would creep into his eyes when she needed it most to be there.

She closed her eyes, picturing his chiseled jaw and nose with his other baby-fine features; mentally she roamed his body, the arms that he’d wrapped around her in the garden, so strong and secure. His firm chest, just broad enough, contours giving themselves away through the thin fabric of his sweater. She breathed and let her fantasies take her.

Cloud was on watch; as she looked at his empty place, she wondered – was it her imagination, or had he placed it closer to her than to the others? No matter, it was empty now. _What if it was shared?_ the idea appeared - Furtively, she glanced around. Everyone within her range of vision seemed to be solidly asleep.

Underneath her covers, she let her hands slide up in tandem, scooping both her breasts to tickle her own nipples – picturing those same perfect lips nipping her ear, traveling down her collarbone to take the place of fingers she now imagined as his as well.

She slid her right hand downward, traveling over the toned abs she’d often caught him staring at. Another thing she sometimes hated, the attention she got for her looks, but from his eyes she craved it - not missing when they flickered to the band of revealed skin above her thigh highs, blushing slightly every time she realized what thoughts were crossing his mind. Thoughts she found herself delighted to be putting there.

Her left hand continued to caress her nipple, imagining it was him. Imagined him sucking on it. Would he like her breasts, or would they be too big and gangly for him?

She squirmed slightly at the idea, allowing her hand to roam freely further, sliding in between her legs with the same virginal shyness she felt every time she pleasured herself. One finger flicking lazily over her clit, allowing the sensation to build slowly and naturally, she recalled doing this same thing and thinking about the same man, years ago when this town still stood.

Excited at her youthful recollections, she gasped involuntarily. She glanced furtively around to make sure no one had noticed, before her left hand descended to join her other, and she gave herself up to fantasy and sensation.

She wasn’t surprised to find herself wet. Her left hand slid easily between her folds, coating her fingers with her own moisture. She teased around her entrance, as nervous as if it wasn’t just she alone doing this. She wondered if he had any experience. Would she have to guide him, or would he take the initiative? Either way would be fine, she realize, as she pictured him between her legs, his naked chest she’d seen the literal barest glimpse of, his muscled arms holding himself above her.

Cloud was simply beautiful, was what he was.

She poked just her fingertips at first inside her soaking opening, the sensitive ring of flesh contracting at the sensation, nearly coming right then as she pictured Cloud sliding inside of her.

She paused, sliding at first two fingers inside of her, then three, picturing him on top of her, now fully devoted to the pursuit of her own pleasure. She wondered how big he was. Would he fill her just right? How would he move? What might he say, or would he just kiss her again and again?

Would he look into her eyes?

The last thought sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her toes; she had no time to brace, tensed muscles releasing so abruptly that she cried out before she could stop herself, leaving her gasping as she let her body take over. Waves of relaxation washed over her as the aftershocks squeezed out the juices of her orgasm. She rolled her head, halfheartedly looking around to see if anyone had noticed – though in that moment, she found she didn’t much care.

In fact, in that moment, if Cloud had heard - she might have rather liked it.

Slowly, her body stilled. Her breathing had returned to normal, but her heart was still slightly racing as she heard a pink-champagne voice out of the darkness.

“Tifa?”

No hiding she was awake. “Aerith,” she called back softly, propping up on one elbow.

Aerith sat down next her, pulling her knees to her chest and tucking her pink dress sloppily underneath. “I knew you were still up,” she started. Even without moonlight, Aerith’s eyes glittered ever so faintly. “I could feel you thinking.”

Tifa didn’t doubt Aerith meant that in the literal sense. “There’s just so many, things I don’t understand, you know?”  
  


Aerith knew. Boy, did she know. But she didn’t want to get into the truth of the rebuilt Nibelheim – she just knew Tifa hurt. “I’m worried about you, Tifa,” she said.

Tifa plopped her head back on the makeshift pillow, staring blankly towards the moonless sky. “I thought I was over it,” she vaguely motioned to the town down the hill, “but Sector Seven… and now this…” She paused; her eyes glistened wet. “I learned to rely on myself.” _I wanted Cloud to be proud of me_.

Aerith laughed, a tinkling, chirpy sound. “Well, you sure can fight.”

“You can, too,” Tifa replied. “I’ve seen it, remember?”

“Well I’m glad I can contribute,” Aerith demurred.

“You can heal, too. Even WITHOUT materia. That’s really impressive. I’m not so good even WITH materia.”

“Your strengths are different. Speed. Focus. You’ve got that down. You’re a monster in battle sometimes, you know that?” Their eyes met in the near-dark; Tifa could feel herself blushing, but basked in the compliment nevertheless.

A long, but not uncomfortable pause stretched out, the women taking comfort in each other’s silent companionship.

“I miss Marlene,” Tifa finally said.

_I do too_ , Aerith silently replied. The child the Planet wanted. She’d been wondering why it had asked her, but now that Tifa was in the picture, perhaps there was an answer. _Well, and Barret, and even Cloud was in there somewhere, but…_ ”You’re really her only mother, aren’t you?”

Tifa paused deeply in thought for long seconds. “I guess… I hadn’t really thought about it that way,” she finally said. “I guess I really am.”

Another moment passed; Aerith shifted position, folding her knees underneath and leaning towards Tifa slightly. Tifa turned her head upwards, towards the peak looming overhead. “Tomorrow we cross the mountain,” she finally said. Aerith noticed a slim shudder, Tifa seemed herself unaware. ”I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” Aerith urged. “Why?”

“Because… when I was little, they said the mountain was full of souls. Souls of those who died. “She paused, weighing whether or not to go forward and say more. But who could she trust, if not Aerith? “Like my mother.”

“I know.” Aerith placed one arm carefully around Tifa’s shoulders. “We’ll see our mothers again, someday. In the Lifestream.”

“But… I feel lonely _now_.” Tifa brushed her hand over the sniffles that had started. “And now there’s _more_ people that I’ve lost and won’t see again until then…” She buried her head in Aerith’s shoulder, trying to keep the tears at bay. “They say the mountain is proof those people lived. Is it selfish of me to think that’s not enough?”

“Of course not,” Aerith soothed. She stroked Tifa’s hair lightly, a gesture she remembered her mother – both of them – doing. “Think of the people you still have around you. You earned those people, their friendship.” And deep down she felt a bit jealous; loneliness had been her companion far more than it had been Tifa’s.

“Don’t say that. You’re one of us too,” Tifa told her. “I’m... glad that you’re here.” _And Cloud too_ , she thought. _I don’t know if I could have faced today without him…_ _Does that make me weak?_

Aerith thought back to Cosmo Canyon, even back to Gongaga, and all she’d learned there – she’d thought she’d been coming to terms with her loneliness. The day before she had felt so separate, the lessons of the elders leaving her with a blend of terror and fascination. She’d felt rootless, but today, perhaps, she felt a little closer to the rest.

Aerith rested her hand on her chin. “You know what they told me in Cosmo Canyon?” Tifa shook her head no. “About the Promised Land. That it’s a land of supreme happiness, something we all have to find for ourselves. Maybe _that’s_ what’s over the mountain?” Tifa’s brow scrunched in thought.

Her new life, her new people. Particularly Cloud and Tifa, the two who most needed her attention right now. She’d done what she could to shield Tifa, feeling ambivalent whether or not she was helping - in that moment with the children, knowing how much that would hurt… But Tifa was such a strong person, she hardly needed the help.

Cloud was another matter. She’d tried to probe him, but found herself getting nowhere, lacking the path to his heart Tifa had. What he needed…

“It’s a new moon,” Tifa interrupted. Aerith realized she was now gazing heavenward. “You can really see the stars.”

“I’ve… never really seen stars,” Aerith told her.

“Really?” Tifa asked, shocked and amazed.

“You can’t really see them above the plate, between the city lights and the pollution,” she explained. “Even so… I always liked the night sky. More than the day. The day sky frightened me. I liked it under the plate better. But the night one made me feel like it was safely wrapped around me. But I never much thought about stars.”

“Don’t you feel… constrained, underneath, though?” Tifa asked. She’d never one hundred percent adapted to the plate hanging above her at all times; she couldn’t imagine anyone preferring it.

“Not really. Too much freedom… to me, that’s what feels like loss,” Aerith said.

“I guess – that would depend on what you are trying to get free of?” Tifa thought once more of Cloud, taking her to an unknown freedom but not alone; she couldn’t help but note the irony that when she finally returned here, it was with him.

Aerith didn’t really know how to answer that. “Freedom… can be complicated.” _Terrifying_. She stared straight up, letting herself really take in the stars; she’d never realized how many there were. _The sky takes away the people I love._ Did Cloud and Tifa worry about losing each other? Looking around Nibelheim today, she had the sense that the two of them together were grounded more than they each alone; she envied them the luxury of worrying about each other, when she was beholden to the world.

“Anyways,” Aerith excused herself, “I just came to say hello. I’ll let you do your own thing.” Tifa started to object, but Aerith hushed her protests, sweeping her gaze significantly to where Cloud kept watch in the distance; keeping them safe. “Don’t forget,” she said softly, “to treasure what you have.”

Aerith rose and departed, her meaning left clear, and Tifa was left thinking. And that lead to the inevitable topic once again.

_Cloud._

Nibelheim was not providing any answers; the answers could only be inside his head.

Talking of Marlene had reminded her - The concept of home was still so important to her, but home was not these slapped-up buildings lacking souls. Home was the people that filled them.

_Treasure what you have,_ Aerith had told her.

Maybe it didn’t matter what memories he was missing. Maybe instead they could make some new ones.

She knew she could stand on her own, but she still needed Cloud, and that was the crux of her dilemma. She still needed their promise. Together, they could keep it.

And that promise sent her to him.

*******

Vincent left his post at watch, Cloud taking over, even as the man insisted he had little need for sleep. Had he really been sleeping for nearly thirty years? What kind of stasis had held him for that long?

Cloud had many questions, but their new companion was not his first and foremost concern. He’d eventually have to pick Vincent’s brain for what he knew about Sephiroth, but every time he tried to untwist the puzzle in his head, that zapping pain snuck up on him, as if he’d been reaching for something too hot to touch.

Pleasanter thoughts awaited him, and he was grateful for this time to himself to think about the _other_ thing that was on his mind.

Tifa, the one line connecting him to home – the one he could count on when he doubted himself the most. She the reassurance that his memories were correct, that he hadn’t imagined the Nibelheim incident they had survived together.

If this was an illusion, it was their shared illusion.

He WISHED that day could be nothing but an illusion.

He paced the few steps of his post, never taking his eyes off the surroundings. Why didn’t she blame him more? If she did, would it be easier for him to try and make it up to her?

He needed to keep the promise to her, whatever it took. That was the key.

She hadn’t cried when they’d stumbled on this… whatever this was. He kind of wished she had. Maybe he could have tried to console her, to share once again what had passed them in the garden. He’d been slowly coming to realize – what she needed – was a hero in the _emotional_ sense, not merely the physical. He still felt so impeded by the simple inability to _feel…_ but he could try.

Part of him wanted to run from the memories of failure, unable to stop seeing them every time he looked at her. _Tifa, bleeding and unconscious, on the floor of the reactor._ But slowly, those images were losing focus, fading – replaced by those newer and sharper, miniature victories to take their place. But no, he _couldn’t_ run, because he’d made a different promise to her in the garden - paying back the promise in little pieces.

Being a hero was different than he’d once believed. He’d thought he’d traded away the idea of being one for the life of a merc instead, but what else COULD he have done after Nibelheim? Now, to his surprise, the option was still there – muddling the black and white he’d seen before. His ideas of being a hero had changed once again, along with a better sense of what he was fighting for.

He was starting to understand – what she had really been asking him to promise. “We’ll meet again.” Was that all there was to it?

And though he had doubts about himself, she needed him now, and for that he would fight through it. _What can you give to a woman out of that?_ Elmyra had told him. He hoped to prove her wrong - that the price of strength was not the loss of everything else he held dear.

He wanted to do so many things for her. Keep her safe, keep her happy. Wanted to see her always smile. “You’re really a pretty nice guy.” Those simple words gave him wings. He wanted to tell her everything the promise meant to him –

\- and he hadn’t even noticed her approach, coming up like an exclamation point to his thoughts.

“Hi,” she said, hands between her back and shyly shifting back from foot to foot.

“Hi,” was all he managed to cough out in return.

He’d been engrossed in thinking of her long ago, and now, as so many times before, he was struck by the contrast. Blossomed, matured into all of her beauty, he was fascinated by this _new_ Tifa that was before him; even as the core of her, her beautiful heart, was left untouched. He’d seen it come out when she was with Marlene, the same bright smile she’d had as a girl, and Marlene’s glow in return.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he finally asked her.

It was too dark to see, even for him, but he could’ve sworn she blushed. “Sort of.”

He’d been surprised to find her a capable fighter – but then again, she’d always had the spirit. So strong, so brave, yet he wanted and needed to protect her anyway.

“I just thought… I’d come out here and think for a little while. It’s been a strange day, you know?” she continued. He only nodded.

Tifa had brought Aerith’s eyes with her, the ways the other woman was able to see Cloud new and fresh – and Tifa was finding she liked what she saw. It was so simple, she was amazed she hadn’t put it together before. Cloud, deep down, just needing someone to care about – and people who cared about him. And perhaps in this little group they’d collected, he could finally start to find what he needed.

Being here, back where it all started, had brought up so many things. She’d been making a new self, slowly rediscovering love - but Cloud brought back such a flood of feelings she had thought lost, despairing of ever seeing him again. How real was the new identity she’d created in Midgar when the world seemed to be crumbling around her? Having him as the common thread made her feel less fragmented, more put together. The boy that knew-her-when.

He was looking at her, she realized. Just… looking. Amazing how a simple look could carry so much weight… The safety he radiated had been so much a part of facilitating her transition into needed sadness - the shoulder for her tears to fall on. Even here at the scene of the crime, she couldn’t find the anger she so badly wanted to feel, craving the comfort of this man’s presence instead.

Cloud, her support, succeeding where he thought he was failing. He was most a hero to her… when he was simply trying to be a man.

And that’s what had driven her out of warm blankets to seek him out this night. She raised her eyes to his, but found she could meet them for only a second before it started to feel like too much of – _something_.

She was still reeling on five years having gone by; but home, family were as potent a wish as ever. As was the promise – now was when she needed it the most. Needed _him_. While she was being flooded by these so-different phases of her life, he gave her a sense of things coming full circle. Complete. Like maybe her world had some cohesion, re-cemented brick by brick.

And as he helped her to reconcile herself, she felt like she could see him more clearly as well. Part of her feelings were new and specific to adulthood; she wasn’t just falling for a past fantasy - there was physical attraction, raw and new.

Was she ready to call that love?

The stars alone gave enough light that she barely noticed the absence of the moon, the spray of them over the sky like petals on the wind. She dared a look back. He hadn’t moved.

His eyes glowed faintly in the lowlight; now they didn’t seem like the harsh SOLDIER eyes that had frightened her so; but a true blue of his remembered self.

She pictured him starting with a gentle kiss, as her gaze traveled from blue eyes to pink lips and back again, vacillating between tender feelings and burned-deep desire. Would his lips be as soft as she imagined them? Unconsciously she took a step closer, leaning in a bit further, succumbing to the irresistible draw.

Cloud found himself frozen to the spot, the gap between them closing imperceptibly, but his awareness with every diminishing inch of space. Tifa’s closeness flustered him… in a way he didn’t exactly dislike.

The temptation to pull her into a kiss, an embrace, was strong. His boyhood desires burned in his loins for that, and more. Lust inflamed by the nearness of her body, unquenchable even if her cared to stop it.

Today had left him surer of certain things than ever; he was starting to think maybe he could love her like a man. But he was so unsure he could BE a man. Or was he? As he stood and looked at her – REALLY looked at her, fragile and resilient at once – he wondered if maybe he wasn’t failing after all.

Her quiet validation made him feel both stronger and weaker with her by his side. He was starting to believe she might be the answer, if not the easiest one. The trust he’d been craving, right under his eyes the whole time.

And she was still counting on him, still willing to let him try.

Tifa wasn’t the only one who wanted to fill the void left by Nibelheim. Perhaps today he realized how much he wanted a home too, but the idea of a home, a family even… seemed such a remote possibility. That’s what made him hesitate to call it… love.

He wasn’t the boy who made that promise…

But perhaps he could be the man who made another, and another.

“It’s so nice out. The quiet.” she observed, her voice breaking into his thoughts. The moon was new and fresh, yet invisibly breaking open the sky full of stars to invigorate their memories and spirits. “A new moon…”

“It’s also the solstice. The darkest day of the year twice over,” he replied. _That’s_ _true_ , she realized; she‘d forgotten the date. “Seasons are changing. Kind of reminds you all over again, how fast things are changing around us, huh?’’

“Yeah…” she trailed off, considering. “Are you tired at all, Cloud?”

“Nah,” he said. “I’m fine on watch for a while.”

“Well… in that case… would you like a little company?” Tifa breathed. “We could maybe… look at the stars for a while. The new moon makes them so much easier to see.” _New moon. New beginnings, new promises…_

He cocked his head boyishly to the side. “That sounds… nice,” he told her. He paused. “Tifa.” Stargazing… reminded him more of feelings than failures. “New memories.”

He reached up a hand, stopping short of brushing her check with tough leather. With so many missing moments like this, moments like this were that much more precious to him. He felt closer to her than ever, borne of kinship and relief that he was not the only one whose memories the others doubted. Tifa, he trusted to tell him the truth; Tifa was the one who assured him he was real, the proof of his sanity. They turned to watch the sky together, so close, yet not touching.

The solstice bore a peace of its own. Tifa remembered how Nibelheim had celebrated this as a time of transition, the mountain its symbol, a liminal space. A dark barrier where all was lost, to begin anew like Phoenix, new life in miniature. Warm memories it might have hurt to bring up again – but Cloud was there, silently by her side, his presence a simple comfort when she felt so adrift. Solstice would be a homecoming wherever they were, whatever new life they went on to.

“You know,” she told him, “I’ve never really thought about it, but when they used to tell us about the souls of the dead crossing the mountain… the mountain’s kind of a way of keeping track of time too.” She lifted her head higher, trailing the slope above. “I was so afraid of what was on the other side. Aerith told me, maybe we find the Promised Land there. I never really thought it might be a place to be reunited. Sounds so much less frightening that way, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…” She was right, of course, but Cloud wasn’t sure what to answer. _Seasons. Lives._ So many ways to say measure time. So many ways things changed. _Tifa…_ Yet the resilience of feelings remained. “Maybe that’s the only real lesson we can take away from here – the passage of time,” he mused.

She sort of understood. Midgar had neither sun nor seasons and it hadn’t truly hit her how much time had really gone by. Cloud was the REAL marker of the difference, visible in the ways he’d grown in body and spirit. “The last five years… you haven’t exactly had a home, have you, Cloud?” He didn’t answer.

They looked at each other awkwardly, and Cloud wondered if she was thinking the same things he was thinking. Even as they grew close, some things would be left behind. Accepting change led to a fuller understanding, that you had to let some things go to make new memories instead. Tifa was still looking to the heavens; but all he wanted to do was drink her in.

Tifa could feel his eyes on her. Seasons turned in more than one way. Five years in Midgar, but that chapter of her life was finished; perhaps not just a chapter, but an entire book closed.

She didn’t know what would be in the next, but she knew she and Cloud would be characters in the story together.

Survivors reunited, here under the stars. Tied through time and space by a promise.

It was those unchanging stars, not a fake water tower, that made the memory of that promise so achingly real.

In Cosmo Canyon, they’d asked him, _Were you able to hear the stars whisper?_ And he could swear he could. What were they saying? As they stood there, listening to the different types of quiet, he wanted to tell her everything the promise meant to him; and he realized, he was finally learning to _feel_. Cloud looked at Tifa.

Stardust glowed on her face.

Soft feelings of youth had blossomed into adult feelings still unexplored, still undiscovered. The world of emotion was in so many ways unfamiliar to Cloud, leaving him unsure how to proceed.

Still, as he looked into her eyes underneath the same stars where once they’d made a steel-strong promise, he knew those feelings would evolve, and endure, as long as the two of them survived.

He’d do everything in his power to make sure that was a long, long time.

Tifa stared at the sky, trying to will a shooting star into being, wishing for something to wish on. Thinking how her wishes had changed through the years, from little-girl fantasies to something more real and true.

“What would you wish for?” Cloud asked when she told him.

She didn’t hesitate. “A life with meaning.”

_Cloud_. Existing all this time without love, without a home, traveling anywhere a merc would go, she guessed? No wonder he was so awkward, so starved for love yet so unsure how to get it.

Indecision had been holding her back. She didn’t _want_ it to keep holding her back. How much time might they have, really? She started to open her mouth -

\- and suddenly, as if her thoughts had summoned it, there it was, a shooting star, its tail streaking across the night sky; gone in an instant, but the afterimage flashed in her mind as she gasped.

She turned to him; he’d lifted his face to the sky, and she was glad they’d been able to see the shooting star together. “What did you wish for?” she asked.

He hadn’t wished on the first shooting star, all those years ago. He hadn’t known. He still didn’t know… but perhaps now, with the cheap wash of Nibelheim laid out below them, he was finally starting to understand.

“Did you get what you wished for back then?” he asked. She could only nod; she could not give him her answer in words.  
  
 _You came back_ , she thought.  
  
 _I’ll always return,_ the reply she could not hear.  
  


Because now… one thing they knew, their promise was a star of its own… something to guide them, and lead them back home.

*******

Cloud had already risen to take over the watch when Aerith had left to talk to Tifa; but it wasn’t until she returned to her own spot that she discovered Vincent back at his own, not from where Aerith had laid hers. Deliberately. She’d hoped to pry his brain for a few more answers, since as she’d suspected, he didn’t show need or even inclination towards sleep.

He wasn’t cold, she realized; merely reserved. Stoic, perhaps. Unfortunately, he couldn’t expand much on what he had already told them; she carefully danced around directly asking about Gast, but she did learn Vincent had been locked away in that awful vault since years before she was born. _Why would he do that_ , she asked herself. But asking him felt like overstepping boundaries.

At least the conversation let her form some impressions of the man, finally realizing what he reminded her of, a bit. _Cloud_. An older, wiser Cloud. Only subtly, but it was there.

Vincent might be able to do without sleep – but Aerith, Cetra or no, lacked that power. And as her eyelids closed and conversation became more forced, Vincent politely suggested she should seek some rest.

Still, her mind wouldn’t let her.

She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Here, in the foothills, she was beginning to feel the true cold of the mountains proper, but she much preferred that to the interspersed warm breezes that reminded her Shinra’s reactor was humming along – a place none of them had been eager to visit. Not that the mansion had been much better of an experience.

So now she knew… why Sephiroth thought he was one of the Ancients. Despite everything she knew, she could almost feel a stab of pity for the man. From birth, he’d been nothing but another one of Shinra’s creations. And that made her wonder further – at least at the start, had there at least been some hope for him? Was he as much victim as terror?

Naturally, she knew straight off he was no true blood – his cold, disinterested demeanor gave it away. And as all roads of her thoughts had led as of late, this one went to Zack as well. Those he loved were his strength, in direct proportion to the depths of his caring. And if he had only known… if he’d had the opportunity to actually BE a father… what might he have been like then?

Instead, Zack had left a big, empty question mark of what-could-have-been, and no matter how many times she tried to stop herself, she couldn’t help considering the lost possibilities. It left her craving, NEEDING, more information, with no idea where it could be found.

Rolling onto her stomach, she crossed her arms and placed her head on top, thinking.

Zack had come to this town. Tifa had met Zack. These were the facts. But bringing up the subject to Tifa… she was scared any talk of love might uncover her own feelings for Cloud, reluctant, bittersweet, unwanted for the trouble they might create.

Yet for all that undeniable, and sooner or later, she would have to work that out. She brushed the thought away roughly, leaving it for her subconscious to dwell on.

_Flowers reached for the sky._ She’d told herself that once, as much as she’d been frightened, here she was, under the sky and free. Free of Shinra, free of Midgar, and somehow, she was becoming free of her memories as well. Not the memories themselves - those she’d never want to lose – but the power they’d held over her for so long.

Selling flowers, seeing the sky, leaving Midgar – these were all things she’d expected to experience with Zack, and look, after all, she’d been able to do them on her own. Well, not completely alone – but without the perfect dream she’d counted on for so long.

But above and beyond her new friends, her new family, she was accompanied by the whole _world_ now. Not just her sparse patch of flowers near the church, nor the garden by her home, spoke to her now. It was ALL the voices and feelings struggling at once to be heard, to teach her over and over the value of connection, of love. She was experiencing the entire flood the Planet could offer, but more importantly, she was starting to feel ready to listen.

The other side of the coin was the price the Planet demanded of her in return. The burden born to her as a Cetra. This overflowing of feelings that she could never escape completely – it was hers to teach, and pass on. Remind those who had lost their way from the Cetra path to reach out, not just to each other but to the Planet itself. One lifetime would never be enough for this.

The Planet was as starved for affection as, well, Cloud.

Cloud. The problem she was still trying to solve. He’d die a slow death without connection. But no luck - his soul was out of her reach. Telling him outright all she knew – she feared it might be so damaging; unlike Zack, his heart was so fragile and hidden. Not wanting to let him know too much, too soon, she tried to carefully ration out the crumbs of knowledge she gave. To nurture and protect him.

He wasn’t Zack… but he was _someone_ , and that calmed her some as she faced the world. She felt so many things for him, borne of familiarity, affinity. But as much as she wished she could play-pretend, wishing dearly she could call it love, she tended to maternal as much as romantic, her role to guide him forward.

She rolled over on her back, staring at the sky, letting the images of the stars float above her eyes.

Truthfully, it was the feeling of loving him she craved, not he himself; an extra step removed from something that could be made true, and confusing because it could feel so much the same. And she could see in his eyes it was the same for him, a puzzle that would frustrate him until he gave in to love formed without that veil.

She wanted to _teach_ him how to love above all else; another way to find meaning in her relationship with Cloud, and that gave her peace. In Cosmo Canyon, those feelings had burned through her, sloshed up in the maelstrom of confusion she’d found there, stirring the furor of her soul. But like her thoughtless flirtation back in the Shinra cells, she cringed in embarrassment.

Wanting to help both herself AND Tifa, she’d made a conscious choice to step back, and as she let go of Cloud, she found it easier to let go of Zack as well. _Zack, if you ARE in the Lifestream… we’ll meet again one day._

In the constant state of flux between happiness and disappointment she’d been experiencing since meeting Cloud, could she say, and actually mean it with her whole heart, that she cared enough for him to want what’s best for him?

And she knew what _that_ was.

She could try.

Tifa… was also part of what Aerith needed to move ahead, in the smaller, gentler ways so like the woman herself. Yes, she wanted to get to know Tifa for the sake of Marlene. Yes, she wanted to know what Tifa knew about Cloud. But she wanted to get to know the other woman just for Tifa herself. And she wanted to help Tifa with _Cloud_ , make sure Tifa well and truly saw him for who he really was; how could Tifa know, when Cloud himself was not truly open, not entirely whole?

She thought of the empty feeling she’d gotten when trying to tend to those poor black-cloaked children; she shivered.

Cloud and Tifa together were _grounded_ in a way she couldn’t hope to be. Freedom had come so dearly for both she and Zack; she couldn’t help but envy her friends their relative _lack_ of freedom, inextricably bound together, childhoods entangled; indulging the precious luxury of something so little yet so big as simply worrying about each other.

Wistfully, she let her eyes caress the heavens, following the milky green streak of the galaxy across the sky. It had been in the garden that she’d told goodbye to Cloud before it had begun, but now she understood, it wasn’t just _that_. It was a goodbye to all the things that couldn’t be, a second love, a normal life. Because Cloud was not for her, nor she for him.

But even on that hope-drained plateau, she found a peace, a calm, in the emptiness that opened into possibility. A crossing-over of another sort, just like the mountain they would climb tomorrow.

And with that revelation, as she curled up on her side and finally let herself drift towards an overtaking sleep, one final thought occurred to her.

_Had Cloud started to hear the flowers?_

*******

An early morning wake-up call: Tifa yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking towards Cloud’s retreating back after he’d gently shake her awake. His own gear, already done up with military precision, lay not far away; closing the gap between them in a literal as well as figurative way. The night before, she’d wanted to get closer – but perhaps it had happened, if not _quite_ in the way she’d been thinking of earlier.

Tifa blushed at the memory, as pink as if he had actually been watching – and she wondered once again, if she was certain SOLDIERs couldn’t read minds.

Cloud busied himself breaking camp after waking all but Vincent. Vincent had been up since daylight, and really no one knew if the man had even slept at all.

Enigma he might be, but Cloud already felt a kinship with the man – united by their pursuit of Sephiroth and their hatred of Hojo, even if he did not yet know all the reasons why. The skills of a former Turk would be valuable, as would his knowledge of Shinra way back when; Cloud hoped he might yet get some answers about the Nibelheim Incident.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the answers were right under his nose, if only he could decipher them.

Rustles and chattering broke the early morning air as the rest of the team followed his lead. As they finished the last chores, Cloud stole one last glance towards the village below; even knowing it wasn’t home, he couldn’t help a sad nostalgia for what once was.

He turned to Tifa; the pain in her eyes showed she felt it too. Not to mention her anxiety about the next step. “Ready?” Cloud asked her, eyes carefully searching hers. She nodded, straightening her shoulders.

They’d discussed this at length; it was Tifa’s moment to play leader. She had to be the one. She’d been the mountain guide, way back when, bragging (truthfully) that no one else knew these mountains like she did.

She took her spot at the head of the party, but as she turned towards the trail reaching upwards, she couldn’t shake the remembrance of the LAST party she had led up this route. _Zack, warm and friendly; Sephiroth, cold and aloof._ And the trip after that…

She remembered a nothing blur of her sprint up to the reactor on… _that_ day. _The feel of the Masamune in her hands. The pain as it sliced her open. Her father_ – she was suddenly ashamed to realize, in her shock the day before, she hadn’t remembered him, not once. But now…

The memory hurt so much it was overwhelming; she distracted herself with the scenery. Just as she remembered, the burbling vents spewing viscous green that children had always been warned away from; it was said if you fall in, you’d fall to the inside of the earth. She’d never learned if it was true. It wasn’t mako, though – she’d been inside the No. 5 reactor, remembered the smell and feel, and this was different. _Pure Lifestream?_

Aerith seemed to think so. The other woman was gazing intently at every hole they passed, a rapturous look on her face; Tifa wondered what she could be seeing. Herself, all she got was a general sensation of comfort and peace; she wondered why she’d never noticed as a child. Had she just not been paying enough attention?

And then, another suppressed memory – she and Zack, making their way down the hill in cooperation, to get the nameless trooper to safety. Injured protecting _her_ , though he’d obviously been outclassed; the fight had already turned to her when Zack had arrived. She was embarrassed to realize she’d never asked his name.

_Zack_ … she stole a glance at Aerith, but the other woman held her head, facing the sky. What was Aerith thinking about, she wondered? She wished she could tell Aerith the truth of Zack on that day… but how could she, without revealing Cloud’s memories as wrong? Another bind she was trapped in, and Cloud couldn’t help her out of this one. She was on her own.

Aerith stared everywhere, entranced; even on this stony, lifeless mountain, she could still feel the spirit energy all around. As invigorating as when people usually speak of fresh mountain air, but with that little extra bit invisible to senses other than a Cetra’s. The mountain might seem foreboding to some, but to her it felt like coming home; she wondered if Tifa felt the same.

She reached to her hair, where the White Materia seemed to hum approval, and for a moment, it was like her mother was right there with her. She wished that could be the truth. Same as many times before, she wondered what the materia itself was supposed to do. But her mother wasn’t there to tell her, and the materia itself had nothing to say.

They were still low on the mountain; but even so, the path had already turned brown and dead. Children would bravely climb up here to look at the pools, even though they rarely made it past the second or even the first. Higher up, on the mountain proper, teenagers might venture; but Tifa had gone further, and further, making the mountain her second home.

Though she’d missed Cloud then, it was still a time of her life she remembered fondly. The exhilaration she’d felt training under Zangan, culminating in a promise to one day cross the mountain.

Today, it seemed, was going to be that day.

Cloud’s head somewhere else, too; they reached the bridge, and Tifa very carefully did NOT look at him. _That story he’d told in Kalm…_ Pulling her up when the bridge broke. One aberrant detail in a story that he otherwise remembered far too well. She could feel his obvious discomfort, as he nervously shifted; she wondered if he would say anything to clarify, but he remained silent as they crossed, and she was relieved of the need to verify something she could not.

Aerith had been obviously brightening the past few minutes, her smile wide and open, and as they entered one of the mountain’s inner labyrinths, Tifa realized why. _The mako fountain._ A revisit for Tifa, but this time with Cloud by her side.

Cloud looked at Tifa peering over the mako fountain, a near-duplicate of the last-time they’d been here. He remembered her poking at it, her curiosity charming him at the time.

It still did.

“An overflow of thoughts and memories, too much to handle, leading to mako poisoning…” Tifa straightened. “That’s what Sephiroth told us the Lifestream was.”

_It could be,_ thought Aerith. _But it doesn’t have to be. Memories don’t have to be toxic._ “It’s also how we use magic.” _Not if they’re made of pure love._ It drew her back to thinking once again what made a Cetra; this time, the materia seemed to want to respond. “Like… when you use materia… you’re kind of doing what a Cetra can do. Accessing their memories.”

“Yeah… Sephiroth said something like that too.” Tifa suddenly didn’t want to stay here any longer. “Let’s… just keep going guys, okay?”

The passages meandered through the mountain; and as they traveled for what seemed like hours through its bowels, Tifa was hoping her memory wasn’t failing her, and she wasn’t getting them forever lost. She was immensely relieved when she finally saw sunlight, and as they broke out into the open… she realized…

“We’re at the top!” she cried out in joy.

The view was just as spectacular as she remembered. Grasslands as far as the eye could see… Rocket Town, their destination, off in the distance. If she squinted, she thought she could even see the ocean beyond.

She’d made it. But after crossing the world to come back home… it just didn’t seem like such a hurdle anymore.

Maybe she was stronger than she thought.

Cloud came up, crouching next to her as they stared together into the wide open ahead; she was glad he was here to share this moment with. _We have to go over the mountain to find what we are looking for…_ did Cloud remember his mother saying those words?

“We did it,” she told him. “We finally crossed the mountain.” _Maybe we’ll even make it to the Promised Land._

His barely perceptible smile was all the answer she needed. _Maybe we will._


	39. December 22 - December 24, 0007

“Fuckin’ a,” Cid spat a wad of tobacco into the ocean. “This has got to be the most fucked-up plotline I have ever seen.”

“This scenario IS a bit bizarre,” Vincent, next to him, agreed. “We’re using a plane as a boat, and what we’re doing… well, stranger things have happened. “

“Like what?” Cid grumbled. “And why do you have to talk so goddess-damned formally? Makes you sound like that dog. Lion. Whatever the red guy is.”

“You can call him NANAKI. He has a name,” Aerith scolded. “And let’s worry about what’s important. Aren’t you worried about your wife, anyway?”

“My wife?” He wasn’t any fucking husband material, he thought, lighting another cigarette to pass the time. Why the hell did SHE put up with his shit, anyway? The way he treated her, he’d certainly deserved for her to be long gone. And her stories about staying because she owed him or whatever, when he owed HER for almost letting her die… Shit. NOTHIN’ in his life made any sense, so why was this anything new? So he got angry, and took it out on her, and she just took it, and –

Mother-fucking Hades-damned Honeybee whores. He was just going in circles again. Ramuh. Anyways. He’d joined this clusterfuck of a group against all good sense, to give Shinra a kick in the ass back for what they’d taken from him. You know, just for shits and giggles.

Cloud, Barret, and Tifa were conferring, although the general plan was there; they were just working out details. Core of the operation, those three. Smoothly oiled, when they worked together. He could respect that. But as for who was really giving the orders…

“Try explaining it to me again,” he suggested to Aerith. “From the beginning.”

The girl in pink sighed. “Cid, that’s going to be a REALLY long story.”

“Well, at least enough to explain to me why we are going to the GOLD SAUCER next.” He looked around. “This thing ain’t meant to be a boat. We’re not going to get there for quite a fucking while. “Not like a good airship, around the world and back in a matter of hours…

“Ok then.” Aerith looked around, getting the point. “From the beginning, then. So… have you heard of the Ancients?”

*******

A subtle shift in the party had begun when they had descended the far side of the mountain, a casual, mellow stroll with none of the anxiety or urgency of the climb up. Tifa was grateful to leave Nibelheim behind, even as the intensity of the night before was giving her wings forward today. Taking with her the only memories from there that truly mattered.

She snuck a glance at Cloud; he seemed once again focused firmly on the objective ahead, but she knew better. The little piece of his heart he’d opened to her under the stars, letting her see him in a different light – finding what she’d hoped had been hiding there underneath. Something subtle had shifted, and she couldn’t quite explain how; but it let her move forward with the confidence that he was Cloud, and he was, in the smallest way so far, hers – just as she knew part of herself belonged to him. Irrevocably.

So, a relief, yes, but also somehow… a serious letdown. Finally crossing the mountain – she didn’t know what she expected, some kind of fanfare or something. All those years of legends of ghosts, dogging her associations with Mt. Nibel for as long as she could remember; but here they had crossed, and no one was dead. In fact, everything felt exactly the same.

Cloud led the way forward, ever conscious of the position of the others relative to him. All of them his responsibility, but Tifa, Tifa most of all… that simple fact never far from his mind. It was a distraction, not an unpleasant one, but he couldn’t afford to get _completely_ sidetracked. No matter how badly he wished he could just give in.

Out here, on the relatively tranquil plain, he was recapping the mission so far and the next step forward. They were chasing Sephiroth, that much he knew for sure, but he was having difficulty putting into words the exact reason _why_. The pull he felt here, so strong back in Nibelheim, was now thin - giving the murkiest picture of their objective. He was following Sephiroth, and the rest were following HIM; so much to hang onto the thinnest of reasons.

He heard the rumble of Barret’s voice in response to something Vincent had said; that spurred a thought. While the team might generally share the same goal, there were small differences in their motivations, and he would do well to keep the perspective of the others in mind. Shinra was still a presence. Shinra was still a threat. Rufus’s taunts of a new Shinra era, as the Turks flew him away from their match, rankled, and he wished he’d had the chance to finish handing his ass to the arrogant Shinra heir. And to complicate things further, Shinra sought Sephiroth as well to lead them to the Promised Land (Aerith, thankfully, having been a dead end for them there) – putting them in an unpleasant race with each other, not entirely enemies but constitutionally unable to cooperate. Too much bad blood there.

_Aerith._ She’d cheered some since Gongaga, since Cosmo Canyon, and he was grateful for the change. It all came down to her, didn’t it? Whatever the Promised Land was – and he still wasn’t sure he understood, was it a place or not? – it was part of the core of who she was. Would she find her way there? For that matter, maybe that was what they all were looking for.

Maybe they would _all_ find their Promised Land by the end of this journey… somewhere this side of infinity.

It was something to think about. He was finding it harder and harder to hang on to hatred as a reason to keep on going.

Aerith found herself looking at Cloud, at _everything,_ with new eyes this morning, she flush with pleasure after the invigoration of the mountain, feeling somehow, some way, _different_ from the person she had been only a day before. Its spirit energy– more powerful than she had felt in a long time, left her strangely fulfilled, at peace; she’d learned something from Mt Nibel that Cosmo Canyon hadn’t let her know. Something more about what might lie ahead for her, and with her heart and soul opening, she found herself looking forward to receiving more of the answers she so desperately sought. She didn’t know what exactly had passed between him and Tifa the night before… but subtle differences in his demeanor told her all she needed to know. He was learning not to love the idea of being in love, but the true, raw love she knew he could find with Tifa. And for herself, she realized she had her own part to play in Cloud’s life, and she hoped she was finally, fully up to the task.

Vincent had answered Barret’s questions to the best of his ability and desire; it had taken Barret a while to be convinced Vincent had nothing more to say, he leaving to join Yuffie and Nanaki instead. Vincent couldn’t help but notice the contrast, the yammering young woman on Barret’s left flank, the dignified beast on his right - and Barret now looking trapped in the middle. Nevertheless, Vincent was grateful, content to be left to himself.

He silently observed each party member in turn. Cloud, their designated leader, but fragile cracks in his soul, the same flaws Vincent had once bore before he hardened them shut. He remembered all too well the source of his undoing; perhaps Cloud had a better chance to heal. Vincent’s eyes flicked to Tifa. Kindness filled her soul; Vincent felt the soft affection for her that one feels about someone impossible to hate. And as much as she tried to be subtle, her furtive glances to Cloud screamed out to Vincent’s sharp perception, as did the occasional glances Cloud returned her direction. He could only hope they would fare better than his own ill-fated desire.

And then there was Aerith.

Cloud might be the leader of the party, but Aerith was the heart. Of all the things Vincent had seen as a Turk – he had never met a Cetra before, half-dismissing them as superstition even as Hojo madly tried to recreate them. _Jenova, the Ancient that wasn’t._ Vincent’s… modifications… were not those of a SOLDIER; they gave him no sense of Lifestream, yet it shone out of Aerith to his eyes nevertheless. An effusion of life, such a contrast to the emptiness he felt; accessible, penetrating, and he wondered if she could see his scars, the ones invisible to the eye. And if perhaps she was the key to healing them.

Nanaki’s step was subtle, but his approach was easily detected by Vincent’s Turk senses, even before he nudged his muzzle under Vincent’s glove. “It is a wonder to meet a Cetra, is it not? She glows with power, yet she is simply a young woman nevertheless.”

Vincent didn’t answer. He didn’t feel he was expected to; Nanaki seemed comfortable with a long moment of silence, before the beast spoke again. “You are older than me.”

“In a sense,” Vincent agreed.

“But you have seen things… before these other humans were born. I am technically older than all here… yet you see, for my race, I am little more than a child, like that one.” He nosed in the direction of Yuffie. “And my understanding is you are doomed to have a long life, like myself. Perhaps you are even immortal?”

“It could be,” Vincent replied. “There’s no way to know for sure.” The… modifications… done to him had been so unprecedented. Followed by Lucrecia’s desperate act to save him… he was no longer sure who, or even _what_ he was. Was he still even human?

“I was hoping we could create an acquaintance with each other,” Nanaki said. “You must have had many experiences. I feel there is much I could learn from you.”

Vincent turned glittering ruby eyes to meet Red’s one gold one, ignoring the puckered scar that took the place of the second. “Experiences, maybe. But I doubt I have much wisdom to offer from them.” Nanaki did not answer; Vincent was thankful that Nanaki was as terse as he himself. Economy of words, sparing him the strain of social interactions long-rusted and emotions long unused.

The peace was short-lived, as Barret rejoined them, thankfully with no more questions about Shinra. It wasn’t that Vincent disliked Barret – he was just a little… overwhelming. More than Vincent was ready for.

“What are y’all talking about here?” Barret rumbled.

“We were considering the Cetra,” Nanaki replied for the both of them.

Barret reached behind his head with the formidable firearm he bore. Strange how easily that could start to seem natural on a man. “She’s really something, isn’t she? The way she rescued Marlene – “

“Marlene?” Vincent inquired politely. “Your wife?”

Barret gave Vincent a wilting look. “My _daughter_ ,” he scoffed. “My little darling girl. Damn, if I don’t miss her so much – “ Vincent was sincerely shocked to see an actual tear roll down the big man’s face.

“My apologies,” Vincent demurred. “You must indeed miss her terribly.”

“She’s just such a perfect, adorable thing,” Barret sniffled. “Why, just the other day…” Relieved, Vincent was able to simply listen politely to a father gushing about his daughter, his pride obvious, and Vincent revised his opinion of the man.

“So, Marlene is what you are fighting for,” he finally interjected. “You told me you sought revenge on Shinra, but that’s the truth behind it, isn’t it?”

Barret stopped, and stared in surprise. “You know, I’ve kind of been thinking the same thing,” he admitted glumly. “Hate’s getting harder to hold onto. And speaking of Cetra…” All three looked forward to where she walked ahead, all by herself but somehow not a bit lonely. “She says we can _all_ talk to the Planet the way she can, if we try hard enough. I’m wonderin’ if that’s the answer to it all.”

“It very well might be. The Elders of Cosmo Canyon think much along those lines,” Nanaki agreed. Vincent remained silent, considering.

It brought him back to what he was thinking at the start. What was he fighting for now? Love had proved nothing but a dead end, so what was there for him? Here he was awakened once again, wondering if he was set to find anything other than an eternity of nightmares.

How strange to have rejoined the world again. Little left but thoughts of revenge in his hollow soul, but for now, it would have to do. The sun beat down on his face, the wind ran through his hair, and it uncomfortably reminded him that he could not escape life after all.

Perhaps _living_ was to be his penance instead.

“Look, Tifa,” Cloud suddenly urged, as the sun began dripping down from its zenith.

Tifa squinted, knowing Cloud could see whatever lay ahead miles before she herself could. “I can’t see anything.” But she was grateful he’d taken the time to point out whatever it was; the day before he hadn’t told her anything, seeing the ugly truth of Nibelheim and wanting to spare her for those few precious minutes more. It reassured her that there was nothing to fear ahead.

“Maybe you can’t see it clearly yet,” Cloud said apologetically, “but that’s almost certainly a rocket. I think we’re nearing our destination.”

Sure enough, as the minutes flew away and the distance shrank, she could see at least the most prominent feature of the town ahead. A needle on the horizon, something that might at first be mistaken for a spire, a tree, anything… but as the houses around its base began to congeal into view, the object clearly showed itself for what it was, towering above the town to which it lent its name and leaning at a rather disconcerting angle.

“I wonder what we’ll find there,” Tifa mused. “I mean, it was just over the mountain from where we grew up, but we didn’t really know anything about it. Or anyplace else, for that matter, I guess.” She swept a look over the surrounding plains, stretching as far as the view from Mt. Nibel’s summit had promised. _So many things new on this journey…_ She glimpsed surreptitiously at Cloud, the catalyst for these new experiences. And, she hoped, many more.

Cloud knew what he expected to find there – it might be a stretch to say _hoped_. SEPHIROTH. So why was he feeling a tug in a different direction entirely? No matter, there was really only one viable destination; nothing to be done but head there and try to find out more.

*******

Aerith and Tifa were left staring at one another in astonishment as Cid rumbled through his house, berating Shera, the tiny woman bearing it without complaint. Uncomfortable with the display, they’d retreated to the back hallway, pretending they wanted to check out the plane some more; now they were just hiding out there until their goddamn tea was ready.

Tifa had thought she’d been prepared for just about anything, but not quite _this_. They’d found the plane. And the loudmouthed-pilot to go with it. Now, apparently, they were waiting for… _Rufus Shinra._  
  
It was all getting pretty weird.

Rufus… now _that_ was disturbing to think about. Tifa didn’t remember their last encounter particularly fondly. Any encounter that left Cloud hanging off the edge of the building was Not Ok in her book.

Come to think of it, she never did ask him how the fight went, did she? A sort of draw, it must have been; was this shaping up to be some kind of rematch? Aerith seemed to feel the same, both worry and righteous anger mirrored on each other’s faces.

“We should have spoken up,” Tifa fretted. “Cid shouldn’t be talking to her that way. Why does she put up with it?” She’d hesitated to intervene; now she was starting to regret it.

“Yeah, I know,” Aerith replied. “But you’ve got to look at it a little more thoroughly. Something’s going on between the lines there.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tifa.

“Didn’t you notice upstairs?” Aerith said, a bit smugly. “This house has only one bedroom.”

“Oh,” Tifa mused, then finally understanding. “ _Ohhhhh.”_

“Trust me, there’s gotta be something under all Cid’s bluster,” Aerith spoke to her thoughts, with that uncanny mindreading tendency of hers. “I’ll bet there’s some kind of turnaround. You know… like behind closed doors,” Aerith smirked.

It took Tifa a second to gather Aerith’s meaning. “You don’t… I mean… Aerith!” she gasped, slightly shocked.

Aerith just giggled, putting one hand to her mouth. “Why, Tifa, did you know you are actually blushing? It’s really cute. But you know,” she continued, smirking with satisfaction. “Cid’s probably a big softie who’s just trying to act cool. Sound like anyone _else_ we know?”

“Huh,” Tifa replied. The thought truly hadn’t occurred to her. But Aerith, with her way of reading people… she was probably right.

“Love takes mysterious forms, Tifa,” Aerith told her, placing one hand gently on her friend’s elbow; Tifa suddenly felt a lump in her throat.

  
“Marlene,” she suddenly realized. “I miss her.”

Aerith’s face was kind. “You’ll see her again soon. I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so,” Tifa replied. She was back to thinking of Cid and Shera, wondering if they would find a way to get unstuck from whatever impasse they were in. _Why does Shera take so much blame, anyway? Just because she couldn’t get an oxygen tank fixed in time?_ Just like Cloud, taking on both responsibility and blame so easily… and suddenly it hit her that she hadn’t actually put that together about Cloud before.

It really explained quite a bit.

Vincent suddenly appeared before them, silent as a ghost. Neither woman had heard him approach. “The two of you had better come quickly.”

“Tea time?” Aerith inquired, but Vincent shushed her hurriedly. “No. Rufus is up front with Cid, and Cloud’s out there too. Barret rushed to join them, but I did not care to be seen, so I slipped away to let the two of you know.”

Tifa and Aerith shared a glance, thinking the same thing. _This could be trouble_. Tifa rushed past Vincent, he gallantly swishing his cape out of her way, with Aerith only a step behind.

Outside, the tension hung thick as Cid faced down Rufus, flanked by Barret and Yuffie. Tifa was grateful to see that Cloud was hanging behind, but she could see, subtle, the coiled tension she’d become attuned to from him. One wrong word from anyone…

“…that’s why we need to borrow your plane,” Rufus had just finished explaining, never losing his irritating polished veneer. Cid’s response was a string of expletives longer than Cloud had ever heard in his life. Stare honed on Rufus’s sneer, for the moment Cloud forgot about Sephiroth, he seething inside of his mind. The president of Shinra – the symbol of all he had lost. _Shinra. Sephiroth._ The SOLDIER had taken his town, his mother, but hadn’t Shinra made the man? Some of his hate had been fading away as they distanced themselves from Nibelheim, but now it flared up all over again, a rage without an outlet.

_Tifa,_ he thought. She’d muddled all his goals for him. Not that he minded.

“Cloud,” he heard her whisper behind him, and he nearly jumped, a symptom of how distracted he’d let himself get by the standoff before him. He turned; she put one finger to her lips; Aerith, behind her, motioned him back into the house.

“- got the fucking Highwind. Ship’s got my Phoenix-burning NAME on it, and you kept it.” Cloud didn’t hear the rest as he stepped back through the front door, his eyes quickly adjusting from the bright sunlight outside to see Shera patiently waiting for them.

“You want the Tiny Bronco, don’t you? For wherever you’re going.” Cloud nodded hastily; he still wasn’t sure WHERE that was, but that tug, now more clearly to the southeast, was growing stronger. “Better you than Shinra. Come on, hurry.” She rushed them through the hall and out the back door.

Aerith looked at the tiny plane, entranced. _Airships,_ she had heard Cid mention, but this was frightening enough. She’d only begun to get used to the sky – was she really supposed to go _up_ in it? To feel… that kind of freedom? Beyond comprehension. But she couldn’t deny, as much as part of her was terrified, another part was exhilarated – what would it be like to go up into that blue? Further, even into space, like Shera had suggested? To see the Planet in its entirety – how overwhelming might _that_ be?

_Flowers reach for the sky,_ she reminded herself. And suddenly, she was proud of herself, for doing it without Zack, for doing it on her own. _I miss you so much, my love,_ she thought, aching to see Marlene again as well. But she couldn’t wait for something to cling to.

Cloud had already helped Tifa up, and was reaching down to her next. But another thing she’d caught from Rufus’s remarks just hit her. _The Temple of the Ancients._ They were following Sephiroth there. And she felt a shiver run through her, some echo in her Cetra blood that told her, _this is a place where you must go._

The White Materia seemed to vibrate inside its resting place, but not its usual soft hum. This felt more like it was quaking in terror, and Aerith couldn’t say she didn’t feel the same.

Barret was the last to clamber on; they could still hear Cid yelling at Rufus up front. Shera glanced once in Cid’s direction, then turned to Cloud; he gave her a nod, and she motioned, directing them to take off.

The propeller turned, the engine sputtered, and slowly the plane rotated to a long strip of green suitable for takeoff. Vincent had taken the controls with confidence, the others gazing in fascination as he switched levers and pushed buttons, accelerating, thrusting forward – and with the lightest thump, its wheels left the ground.

Aerith laughed into the wind, feeling the ends of her ribbon whapping her ears. She was doing it. She was _flying_.

The plane wobbled upwards, cresting Cid and Shera’s house, and below them, Cid and Rufus looked up, startled, as the very item they were arguing over escaped from their grasp.

Rufus began shouting orders to his troops, but to Cloud’s surprise, Cid began running after his beloved Tiny Bronco, and with a literal flying leap, managed to grab on. Red and Barret rushed to pull the pilot on board, Cid huffing and puffing with the effort. He hustled to the cockpit, Vincent decorously stepping out of the way to let him have the pilot’s seat. Cid grabbed the controls with the practiced motion of an expert, but as they began to soar into the sky, the entire plane shuddered with a sudden impact.

“What the bloody Tonberry knife happened back there?!?” Cid shouted.

“We’ve been hit!” Yuffie squealed back. “There’s, uh, flames and stuff!”

“That’s not good!” Cid called back the obvious. “We’re going down! Hang onto your drawers and don’t piss in ‘em!”

Even faster than the plane had gone up, it was coming back down. Someone screamed; it sounded like Barret. The green of grass disappeared beneath them, and Aerith clung, horrified, as the blue of the ocean came up to greet them.

At the last moment, Cid yanked the nose of the plane up, and instead of diving straight down, they landed with an enormous splash; as the plane careened forward, the wake sprayed over them, dousing one and all to one degree or another, before the drag of the water slowed the plane enough to finally bring it to a stop.

And suddenly all was silent, as they looked towards the shore, nearly invisible in the distance.

Aerith stood, carefully, wringing out the hem of her dress in both hands. Gazing around them, she had only one word to say.

“Shit.”

********

Kalm was a relief in so many ways, a literal breath of fresh air. Elmyra had planned for so many years to leave Midgar – eventually – postponing it time and time again, but now that circumstances had finally forced her hand, she felt a weight was lifted.

She hadn’t heard from Aerith, but it had only been a little over a week since she’d left Midgar – two weeks since Shinra had taken her daughter. She could only have faith that Cloud and his friends had safely rescued her, and Aerith would send word when she could.

In the meantime, Marlene was there to brighten her days, like the sunshine of Aerith’s childhood all over again. She’d brought several cuttings from the garden, insisting most of all on the vase of yellow flowers; as Marlene planted them in the window box, Elmyra wondered if they would grow. She was not at all surprised when they began to thrive under Marlene’s attention. Just as with Aerith, she spoke with the flowers; Elmyra wondered if the flowers were answering. What could Marlene see in them?

The original Marlene had brought with her to the Sector Five house continued to thrive, and it served as reassurance – Elmyra had a superstition that it meant Aerith was all right.

As the days went by, she had her chance to see traces of Zack in Marlene as well; her granddaughter unafraid of the sky, unlike Aerith, running around freely in the sunshine for the first time in her young life. She searched Marlene’s face for Zack’s features as well; and even though it was far too early for a true resemblance to show, if she looked hard enough, she could see hints already there.

She thought she was free at last. She had Tseng’s promise, after all, and whatever the man was, he could be counted on to keep his word.

Hence, it took her by complete surprise the day Rude showed up at her door.

She knew them all. Reno, a screwball who nevertheless knew his work. Tseng’s composure. She’d even once met the rookie, Elena, who’d probably been promoted by now. But Rude was always the most decorous, the silent gentleman of the bunch.

“Elmyra,” he greeted her cordially. “I regret to inform you of this, but we will be requiring Marlene.”

Angrily, Elmyra pulled the child to her, in a reflection of Tseng’s first visit all those years ago; Marlene bravely peeked out at the strange man who had arrived. “You can’t possibly. Tseng promised. I won’t let you take her.” Irrationally, she gauged the distance to where her kitchen knife lay; even if she reached it, trying to fight off a Turk was insanity. But she’d let Marlene go to Shinra HQ only over her own dead body.

Rude may have always been a gentleman, but now she wanted to spit in his face.

Rude sighed. “And you as well, Elmyra.” Even through his sunglasses, she knew he was gazing pointedly at her. “But we don’t need you to go anywhere. Tseng intends to keep his promise. It’s more of a… house arrest. Just think of it as Turk protection.”

“What on earth do you _want_ from us?” Elmyra found herself shouting. “Can’t you leave us alone? Or are you still after Aerith? Where is she?!? What have you done with her?”

“Aerith is well, and safe. She’s far from here, with Cloud and the others. The new President no longer has an interest in her.” Elmyra felt a sharp relief at Rude’s words. Could what she hoped for really have come to pass? Aerith, finally free to live her life out of Shinra’s shadow? “It’s… something else we need from their group. Just an item. Not your daughter. You can help us with this. Collateral, if you will, but you will not be harmed in any way.”

“Are you giving us any choice?” she asked bitterly. Marlene only whimpered beside her.


	40. December 25, 0007

**Grateful.**

**Relieved.**

Those were the washes of sensation that came over Zack, vague touches rather than sharp impressions. He’d been concerned when Aerith and Cloud had disappeared from his view, and he had no idea why – still didn’t – only knowing they were both still alive because he hadn’t met them _here._

But still, those two balls of light, close together – but he knew nothing more. Were his hopes being realized? Was romance blossoming, were the two he loved most finding some happiness together?

As long as he felt them together… he was confident they were safe. Cloud would guard Aerith in his stead. He was counting on it.

**Embrace your dreams, Cloud. Protect your honor. Do you still remember my words?**

But there was a nagging foreboding as well. Something coming from Cloud, something not quite right… and just the fact that he felt _anything_ bothered Zack immensely. He didn’t have that level of senses. He shouldn’t be able to tell.

**What was going wrong?**

He tried desperately to reach out to her, the woman he loved, a tender brush on her dreams. But it was like grasping a bubble, gone almost as soon as he touched it, and he was left bereft, not knowing if he’d reached inside….

*******

Aerith woke up flushed and sweating. The trip to the Gold Saucer, the hunt for the Keystone, had exhausted her, and she’d crashed out at once. After finally getting off the plane, it wasn’t surprising her dreams went first to scenes of flying. But then they had taken another, more potent turn.

The memory of that dream was all too vivid, imprinting itself on her mind before she could let it go; even in the dark she could feel herself blushing in shame and embarrassment.

She’d been dreaming about Cloud. Not just him. HER and him, and she could still feel his skin sliding flush against hers, their naked bodies entangled. The sensation had been sharp enough that she could still feel the ache; she was too mortified to reach down between her legs and find out how her body had responded.

Cloud’s touches in her dream, especially unnerving because they reminded her so much of another lover, one who had touched her for real. Naked atop her, his touch was Zack’s touch, his cock was Zack’s – the only man who had ever been inside of her.

And remembering the way she’d cried out, the way Zack had once made her scream – willing those dream memories to fade away – she couldn’t help but feel like she he was betraying Tifa, however unwittingly.

She wondered if Tifa had ever known Cloud’s touch. It wasn’t inconceivable, some night before she’d met them, one thing had led to another… and now they were too awkward to follow through.

She found herself picturing Cloud and Tifa together, and to her surprise, the vision grew in her head, sparking a jolt of excitement that she hadn’t expected.

Lying back, she allowed her mind to drift forward carrying that image; picturing Tifa underneath Cloud, her legs wrapped around him, back arching and luscious breasts against his chest. Writhing and whimpering, as he drove his hips forward, thrusting inside of her over and over. Aerith pictured Tifa throwing her head back, wailing in pleasure, and her own hips twisted in response to this voyeurism of her own making.

She wanted to soothe the burning craving between her legs. Too long without a lover’s touch. Desire hadn’t left her with Zack’s disappearance, but it was all twisted in knots, leaving her uncertain as to what or who she wanted.

Not too surprising she was having uninvited dreams of Cloud.

Besides - he was the key to it all. Yet something inside him split apart, a break that needed to be repaired before that fissure shattered open completely – or would be better just to crack it wide, have it done?

She needed Cloud to be ready; she was afraid there wasn’t time. They – and Shinra - were going to the Temple of the Ancients, pursuing Sephiroth, himself looking for the Promised Land. There must be some answers to the Promised Land there, things she had not yet learned – but what did Sephiroth expect to find? How? He was no Ancient; he didn’t understand the Promised Land was found within, no more that Shinra ever had.

But ever disquieting to her were the rumors of a Black Materia; could that be what Sephiroth was seeking? She didn’t know what it was, what it did; but she was afraid she was going to find out. It must somehow relate to her own White Materia, but what was the connection? Her mother’s materia had always made her feel safe; now, she shivered.

Uncertain and fearful, she knew she was counting on Cloud to be there, to guard her. Was Cloud himself prepared for what they might find? A showdown with Sephiroth was coming, she could feel it. And the Planet itself seemed to worry for Cloud.

That split in his soul, his emotions, needed to be healed; and she would do the best she could to do so. She needed to teach him to _connect,_ how to experience the world, the people around him; he was making progress, but it was oh so slow. He needed the relative _lack_ of freedom inherent in that paradigm; needed to be tied to something to make him whole. To be able to feel, to wash away the numbness he experienced all too often.

It was her job to guide him, but her own dreams and feelings, subverted for a greater cause, were interfering in her plans.

She’d tried a gentle, personal touch, trying to forge a direct connection to his soul; to use her Cetra skills to calm and soothe him. But something was blocking her; he’d have to find the way out on his own. Out of his pretend-strong exterior, a shell to hide his flaws. Cloud, still an enigma in so many ways – familiar yet novel all at once, as confusing as she reorienting herself relative to him. Not to be his lover; to be his guide.

Cloud was his own mess in her emotional nest. Despite her best efforts, he sparked feelings in her that she had thought lost; as much as she wanted to see her two friends finding love and happiness together, goddess, she couldn’t deny it still hurt.

And she thought she had an idea of why.

It was too much sometimes – his subtle gestures. So reminiscent of her lost love. No wonder it carried over into a dream of him making love to her the same way. Yet that was all it was, a dream – dream or reality, there was only so close she could get to him.

But with Tifa, he somehow seemed more of _himself_ , whatever that meant. It was something that only Tifa could bring out of him. Tifa held the route to his heart – a tunnel too small for Aerith to enter. Still, with time running so low, that wouldn’t – couldn’t – stop her from doing what she could.

It was time to get to the bottom of some of these mysteries. She needed to guide him, not cling to him, and she needed to do that before it was too late – before they found whatever awaited them at the temple of her ancestors.

Decision made, she hopped out of bed, pulling on her clothes, ready to pay Cloud a late night visit. Somehow, she knew he would still be up.

*******

Cloud started out the window, lightning striking, rain sleeting Fake. Like everything else in this place. Fake like he himself still felt so much of the time. His mind was running through his adventures, his experiences, since this had all began; thinking over how they had changed him in so many ways – and how they might change him still. Filling the hollow inside with something fresh and new.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, unexpected this time of night. “It’s open”, he called, instinctively gauging his sword’s location, uncertain who might chose to enter.

The door squeaked open as he turned. To his surprise, it was Aerith who appeared; last time he’d seen her, she’d been adamant about going straight to bed. “Heya,” she began, but she seemed fidgety, agitated; and he wondered what had brought her to his room tonight.

_Aerith_. On one hand, he felt sometimes like he’d known her forever; other times, she was a murky mystery. How she fit into his life, how she’d showed up out of nowhere to become this medium for change. The beginning of this journey, the path he’d been set out on, with the ending still unknown. And then there was the woman herself, sparking uncomfortable feelings he hesitated to face, remembering her cryptic warning. She let the door slide shut behind her, leaving them staring at each other across the room, he taking the moment to try and figure out what exactly it was he felt for her.

She wasn’t Tifa. That was his first thought. Perhaps that was her most distinctive feature, but he shuddered to identify her only by a negative when there was so much more to her. The familiarity he felt – like the feeling of the sword in his hands, the motorcycle under his legs, she felt like she was meant to be there; it hit him so strongly sometimes that he had to question if it was mere coincidence that had allowed them to meet, or if there really was some destiny at work.

He felt… warmly towards her, at the very least. And that in and of itself was an accomplishment. To be able to _feel_ things, a door she’d help open up – her Cetra talents helping him to bridge across the gap.

She crossed the room with a few long strides, looking him up and down with concern. “I just wanted to come check on you,” she told him. “Everything alright?”

“Sure,” he replied, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

This close he could feel her acutely, much more than the soft-sigh whisper he’d heard her calling to him before. A link he didn’t understand, yet it was undeniably there. She stepped just a touch closer, bordering his personal space; a shiver went through him, his nerves tingling with the simple sense of nearness. The way one just knows when a person is close – a radiating of a body’s warmth, a soul’s presence.

“I figured you’d be thinking about tomorrow,” Aerith replied. “Going to the Temple… you’re expecting a fight with Sephiroth, aren’t you?” Cloud flinched visibly. “I thought so. I can feel it, too. Something big is about to happen.”

Cloud had that unexplained connection to Sephiroth, but Aerith was hearing the doubts of the Planet itself, that feared the general and what he might have planned. Yet Aerith couldn’t distinguish between the Planet and her own uncertainty, that cried out to her to care for Cloud, to protect him… the way Zack had once meant to protect her. A turnaround, and she wondered at the implications.

“I’m ready,” Cloud assured her, but in reality, he was wondering. He was looking forward to facing Sephiroth – craving it even, for all he owed the man – but deep inside, a part he tried to hide, he was reluctant, terrified. Too many doubts about himself still, and no time to resolve them; he’d have to do the best he could with what he had. Who he was.

With Aerith right in front of him, he felt drawn to her for reassurance, at the very least, unsure where exactly it was coming from. Was it attraction, desire? They looked so similar; it was confusing to his inexperienced mind. Some minimal experience with the opposite sex was hardly enough to understand the female heart, particularly when two women between them seemed to be dictating his path. It made it difficult to extricate the two in his thoughts; he’d been so sure he knew what he wanted, just a short while ago. But now, in this moment, he was suddenly second-guessing himself.

That confusion was part of what kept him from giving himself to Tifa in the way he so desperately wanted to. A physical attraction, an uncomfortable itch with little to justify it, but enough to disrupt what he thought he had resolved in his mind. He wanted to be there for Aerith, but, selfishly, from Tifa he wanted love.

At least, that’s what he thought.

It had been comparing Cloud to Zack that had given Aerith an idea. _The mako._ That was part of it. It had never taken Zack over – he’d been able to draw on all those memories and feelings to make himself stronger; once more she wondered what he might have become, if only he had known of Marlene. But Cloud… he hadn’t yet learned how to truly love. The SOLDIER skill of using one’s memories, one’s emotions… when he had any memories at all to fall back on.

Perhaps the problem was Cloud loved _too_ deeply, and that made him vulnerable – the overflow of feelings and emotions, blended with the mako-facilitated connection to the Lifestream – and even less experience than she herself. If _she_ , even after experiencing it for years, sometimes found it overwhelming, what must it be like for him?

Weak, defenseless against the rising tide. Susceptible to unexpected sensation, unanticipated feelings for _her_ , among other things, just when he’d begun tilting properly towards Tifa. She wanted to teach him that that flood of memories didn’t have to be toxic; show him how to keep his memories pure. He needed those touchstones of love and happiness to find his strength.

“You need to _really_ be ready,” she urged him. “I thought… maybe I’d be able to help. I might have some answers.” At least, she hoped; she knew little more than the rest about the Temple itself, awaiting the next day with the hope that there were answers to be found there. “Go ahead. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I don’t really know,” Cloud shrugged. The short answer, but a true one nevertheless. He didn’t know enough to even formulate a question; how was he supposed to get some answers?

“You need to know. Whatever I can answer for you. I want to make _sure_ you’re prepared,” she told him. “For whatever we might face.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Cloud asked blankly; but inside, he was afraid. She was hitting a little too close to home; close to his own fears and insecurities, the worry he’d be inadequate. A failure. Again.

“I don’t know… that’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Aerith was at a loss; and being this near to Cloud was leaving her disconcerted. The way he was staring at her now… like he could really see _her,_ like so few did. It was subtly intoxicating, and it was fogging her head. But deep down… she knew this was an ethereal illusion brought on by frustrated desire and loneliness. Cloud wouldn’t love the real her, any more than she would be able to love the real him, with too many remembrances in the way.

This moment was a connection of souls… but it wasn’t that kind of love. Not the one she wished it could be. The yellow flower had been meant to bring him back to her. Instead, it had brought her Marlene. And for that alone, she sent a silent thanks that Cloud had entered her life.

“I’m wondering about the Black Materia,” she told him. “That’s… worrisome.”

“What do you know about it?” Cloud asked, relieved to have a direction for the conversation.

“Nothing… actually. I’ve never even heard of it before today.” Or had she? Somewhere in the whispers of her ancestors’ memories, she sensed a remembrance of it there, pointed towards her – almost as if they were trying to speak to her. Maybe at the Temple she could hear them more clearly. “I don’t understand how it would help Sephiroth find the Promised Land.”

Cloud looked grim. “Just the fact that he’s trying means we need to get him away from it.”

“I’m not arguing with you there,” she told him. “I just wish we knew more of the answers, you know, how it all fits together?” _How you fit in, Cloud_. “The Promised Land… the Planet won’t allow it,” Aerith mused. “He’s not an Ancient. The Planet doesn’t want him there. It sees him as an enemy, a blight.” That much, the Planet had made adamantly clear to her. She sighed. “The Promised Land… it’s something everyone finds for themselves.” Perhaps that, more than anything, was what she was trying to teach him. “It’s… a journey all its own. Hard, but rewarding at the end. Same as we’re on a journey now.” _I thought I found my Promised Land, once. Now I don’t know what mine is anymore._ “What does the Promised Land mean to you, Cloud?”

Cloud shifted from one leg to the other, not answering. He considered what Aerith was saying, inevitably coming back to her place in his life. Aerith, propelling him forward; yet Tifa brought him home, to the self he wanted to run from. Perhaps that was what made him most afraid.

Aerith fidgeted. _Who are you really, Cloud?_ “I want to meet you,” she found herself suddenly saying. “Get to know you. The real you.”

It was as if she had read his own thoughts; yet Cloud was completely confused by her question. “What are you talking about?” he answered, perhaps more bluntly than he had intended. “What’s gotten into you, Aerith? I’m here. Right in front of you.”  
  


“No… you’re different… things are different…” Aerith was talking more to herself than Cloud, she knew. Normally she was much more articulate, but now, she was garbling what she was trying to say to him, uncomfortable being near him after that still-vivid dream. He might be different, but that didn’t mean moments with Cloud were not to be cherished. _Every moment matters, Cloud. You said you’d remember that. Will you remember this?_ Cloud… no, she shouldn’t let herself think along those lines. It was nothing but an illusion, a dream that couldn’t become reality.

Cloud was now… thoroughly baffled by Aerith, normally so straightforward, being so esoteric. When he needed some clear answers the most. It all tied together – this journey, Sephiroth, the whole team and Tifa – altogether combining to change him. Into what, he still didn’t know, but he felt Aerith was the only one who might have an answer to that question… she was a Cetra, right? Didn’t that entitle her to all that extra knowledge from the Planet? He’d thought a time or two he might be hearing the Planet itself, but there was no way it was the same. Right?

This moment was a precious chance for him to find some of the answers he sought. But somehow, there was a barrier between he and Aerith that communication couldn’t cross. _It’s because she’s not…_ He knew how that sentence finished, but for some reason he couldn’t finish it.

“Do you understand what I was trying to tell you?” she suddenly prompted. “You know… in the garden?”

She had said so many things in the garden, but the one stuck out. _Every moment matters._ And suddenly, he was thinking of Tifa again, the image of her beautiful face filling his thoughts. “I think… I might.” Nibelheim, the moment they’d shared. The clearest he’d felt in a long time. Tifa… she made him whole.

Cloud _did_ understand. Aerith could see that now, and she was glad. Cloud, a fellow searcher, a kindred spirit – slowly finding his way. And she wanted to be there to help, to facilitate becoming a hero the way she knew he could be. The potential was there; Zack had brought it out so easily, but Cloud was more hidden, damaged… it was like comparing the girl she once had been to the woman she was now. Innocence giving way to a careworn maturity, ineffably scarred by the truths of love as much as loss.

She’d thought, on first meeting, Cloud might mean new love. A lifetime ago she might have wished for that fresh start, but she was a different person now - beholden to the planet; older, wiser, both more confident and more insecure. Ready to accept the inevitable loneliness that came along with her burden. Yet, at the same time, she understood that even if he loved Tifa, it didn’t mean he didn’t care for her as well; that, she could appreciate.

“Then… do you feel like yourself, Cloud?”

_I don’t know,_ Cloud thought, uncomfortably, scared to admit it. _That would mean knowing who I am._ “Who else would I be?” he countered instead. _What was he supposed to know?_ Some answer located within those missing memories and surrounded in dreamscapes he could not penetrate

_I don’t know,_ thought Aerith. But she _did._ He was kind of like Zack, and kind of like himself, but both paled before what she knew he must BECOME – now, with him here in front of her, she thought she might be starting to get it after all. The mixed, jumbled parts of him approaching some kind of synthesis in her mind – not so much broken as dual. What he was, and what he was not, the difference sharpened to her eyes – he couldn’t be with Tifa, or anyone, until he was whole. Not truly. And now she could see just a little more clearly where and how he had to go.

She walked to him, touched his shoulder gently; his hand brushed her arm in return. Touch, that was what differentiated him from Zack. She sensed the tenderness he was capable of, and hoped Tifa would have the chance to be the recipient.

She couldn’t let herself dwell on maybes. He could so easily confuse affection with love; she worried part of him was doing that with her already. She needed to steel herself and make the right decision.

He was learning to love, and if Tifa was the catalyst, for that she was grateful, in more ways than one. But it wasn’t yet time – he couldn’t yet give himself fully, not in the way he wanted. He needed to be handled gently, carefully. _Do you understand love,_ was what she needed to ask him. Or, more directly, _who do you love._ But that wasn’t what popped out of her mouth. “Do you love me?”

There was a long moment of pungent silence, Cloud staring goggle-eyed at her, and she realizing the full impact of what she had said. _Oh, no, Cloud, that’s not what I meant, think of Tifa…_ But he _wasn’t,_ not in this instant; she could see he was crumbling under the impact of what she’d said; she’d seeded doubt where she’d wanted to give encouragement. In that instant before those four words had gone from thought to sound, she’d meant it as a warning - but it came out a plea, and now she didn’t know how to go backwards and repair the damage.

Or… had she, subconsciously, chosen those words on purpose? Right after trying to make peace with the way things must be?

Cloud was stunned. Troubled by what she had said, not knowing how to respond. He thought he _might_ “love” her… but what the hell did that mean? How could he know, when he didn’t know anything about what love really _was?_ _Do I get a say in this,_ he’d told her, and now, just as then, he knew… he really _didn’t_. His heart followed its own beat.

The question just _stayed_ there, hanging in the air, a dead end. “Well, uh… maybe I should just… it’s late, I should go,” Aerith awkwardly excused herself. She turned towards the door, just in that instant seeing the knob turn, and as the door opened, perhaps the last person she wanted to see in that moment.

Tifa’s eyes grew wide, shy and embarrassed, staring at the two of them in surprise. “I heard voices,” she explained, “and I tried the knob… and it was open… I’m, uh, I hope I’m not interrupting…”

Aerith was mortified, realizing what it looked like. Tifa seemed confused, but not jealous, for which Aerith was grateful. She backed a couple steps away from Cloud, widening the intimate distance, closer to Tifa and the door, still reluctant to leave. She desperately needed some information on Zack, but she wasn’t getting any… and now it would be far too awkward to ask Tifa. Tifa seemed to be hiding so many things – and it had to be Tifa, she couldn’t ask Cloud outright, scared of how it might undermine the self-identity he was slowly forming.

But she couldn’t ask Tifa either without slipping and revealing the feelings she might or might not have for Cloud herself, that she’d been churning through her head all night. She’d REALLY blown her chance to ask.

She needed to get out of here.

Tifa realized all at once what she was seeing, wondering why she hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe she DID see it and just pushed it aside, trying to avoid the awkward situation that was now right in front of her. It was obvious now, Aerith had feelings for Cloud, wistful, unrequited desire… and she’d been consciously choosing to step aside. For her, Tifa’s, sake.

She felt terrible about it, that her friend would have to end up hurt by her own happiness. _Love is complicated sometimes_. Did she just say love? She could at least admit it to herself, even if she hadn’t been able to say it aloud to Cloud yet. Here was a situation with no single solution, no one right answer, that would leave every party unhurt.

And even as her heart went out, she was touched that her friend would make that choice, that Aerith cared about Tifa, too, enough to not try to compete – not to make some unpleasant love triangle out of the whole scenario.

“Cloud and I were just, ah, talking about the Temple of the Ancients,” Aerith hedged. It was a partial truth. “I was wondering if he had any questions for me. You know, maybe I could answer them. If there was something I knew about. Maybe because of my ancestors.” She was rambling.

“And the Promised Land,” Cloud prompted, as if it had just occurred to him.

“Oh, yeah,” she continued. “And that.” Embarassment seemed to have locked her feet in place; she forced them forward. “Well. Ergh… it’s getting late. Big day tomorrow. I should probably get to bed.” She brushed against Tifa, and shamefully, forced herself to look Tifa in the eyes, before gazing back at Cloud, holding his eyes just a second too long. “After all, what we’re doing is important. Every moment matters.” Cloud’s eyes didn’t betray a response; she didn’t wait to see if her meaning had penetrated before she hustled herself out.

The Promised Land… was for everyone to find on their own. She wondered if Cloud and Tifa could find theirs together; she hoped they could find the happiness long lost to her. Tifa was not a Cetra like she herself, but she had her own strengths to bring to Cloud.

_Cloud, make the most of this time,_ she sent the silent thought as she scattered down the hallway. _Spend the night with Tifa. Make love to her all night long. You never know if you won’t get another chance._

For the first time in forever, she thought of that last time making love to Zack, the night they had conceived their child, before he left for Costa del Sol. And then he’d been back for barely a moment, and she’d had no chance to touch him, tell him, before he left on that mission… assuming he would return. And he didn’t. He didn’t keep his promise. Did he try?

Would she ever know that answer?

Tifa and Cloud were left staring at each other awkwardly, somehow backpedaling from the closeness they had found at Nibelheim; it was as if Aerith’s presence was still there, even though she was long gone from the room, coloring their interaction.

“Hi,” Tifa said.  
  
“Hi,” Cloud echoed.

A silence ensued. Cloud did not know what to say next. “Would you… like to come in?” he asked, having the faintest idea if she would, or why, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Tifa – _blushed._ Actually blushed. It was as charming as the first time he’d seen it. “Well, actually, I came to see if… maybe… you wanted to go out for a while?” Her eyes were mildly pleading; Cloud couldn’t resist that face. “I mean, enjoy the gold saucer while we have a chance?” She brightened. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Cloud paused, suddenly uncertain. “Yeah… maybe.” But as he stepped forward towards her, and her smile brightened ever further, he knew that was the right answer to give.

As he followed her out the door and through the lobby of the Ghost Hotel, Tifa couldn’t help wondering about Aerith. Her friend, so assertive. Had she wanted to confess her feelings to Cloud, she could have so easily come out and said it… and _that_ was the part that made Tifa envious. Maybe she should follow Aerith’s example.

As they entered the Gold Saucer proper and he pulled up by her side, she turned to look at him, running through her feelings for him. It wasn’t Aerith, not really – it was only _her._ She was scared to make a move and take this further. After Nibelheim, she’d started to think – hope, even – that it might really be love, but that was such a big leap to make, what if she just blew everything instead? Combined with all her doubts… would it make things better or worse for Cloud?

It was the old question all over again. _Was she good for him?_ A nagging bit of self-doubt wondered if Aerith might be better, her brightness, her confidence – not weighed down with the heavy baggage Tifa carried, even if some of that was baggage shared with Cloud. _What was Aerith trying to do tonight? What did Aerith know about Cloud she didn’t?_ And then there were her doubts about _him_ – even as she so desperately needed to trust him, to know she could rely on him.

Shaking her head, she told herself to stop thinking about it so much; to just enjoy spending time with him in this moment, and hopefully everything else would sort itself out. If nothing else, Nibelheim had been a lesson in the passage of time, and Aerith was right – they had no way of knowing what would happen tomorrow. _Sephiroth._ They were drawing near.

It was a pleasure to just have him near her, laughing and talking, he unusually at ease with himself – his dorky, cranky, silly genuine self. He’d already kept the most important part of the promise – simply to _be_ there when she was in trouble. He’d come back to her.

Once upon a time, she’d wanted him to be her hero, but he didn’t realize – even SHE didn’t realize, back then – he didn’t need to try so hard. He was most a hero to her when… he was simply being a man. A man capable of great feeling, tremendous caring, so deeply that sometimes it hurt him. And it threw her off just the slightest bit when she started to realize the feelings he carried for HER.

It wasn’t about one little girl waiting for a boy to come rescue her. They were adults now, getting to know each other as the selves they had become – a partnership, perhaps the ultimate fulfillment of the promise. As frightened as she was, it left her eager to see where they could go from here; perhaps she could find courage enough to try to take the next step.

She wanted to.

He slowly succumbed to her enthusiasm, even finding some of his own, as he allowed himself to be dragged from attraction to attraction. To him, it was irrelevant what they did; he just wanted to be in her company. To have unfettered license to just _look_ at her, smiling, laughing, having a good time; he was fascinated, smiling the slightest bit in response; comfortable in a way that had been missing for a while.

For just a little while, they could pretend to be free of their troubles.

They left giggling at the play in Event Square, breathing heavily as they got off the roller coaster in Speed Square, finally slowing down to grab drinks and a snack, consumed standing up at one of the high tables in a courtyard in front of one of the many food booths, surrounded by the noise and light of the hubbub around them.

“How’s the drink?” he asked her politely.

She took a sip, raising her eyes flirtatiously. “It’s pretty good,” she told him,” but of course, mine are better.”

“Naturally.”

Tifa had been right, Cloud realized. Not that she wasn’t usually anyway. But it _was_ nice to take this time, have these simple pleasures – it was just so _easy_ to be with her. _Could love really be that simple?_ He thought somehow it should be more difficult – like he didn’t deserve it if it wasn’t a challenge. But here was Tifa by his side… the one he’d never thought he could have… and it just felt _right_.

He remembered wanting to take her away from Midgar; now he’d gotten his wish even if the circumstances weren’t ideal. Dare he dream of more, a life with her perhaps? A husband, a father – concepts far too distant for him to wrap his mind around it, words he couldn’t even begin to associate with himself. Far too difficult for him to put Tifa in that picture, even as he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He should tell her. He really should. Take the risk. But how could he, when he didn’t feel like he deserved her yet? How could he expect to win her over that way? Was he even good for her, or could she do better? Was he getting closer to being a man she COULD love?

It was growing late, and he saw her eyelids start to droop; he reminded himself that she didn’t have the advantage of stamina he did. “Are you getting tired?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “A little bit.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“Not yet.” As much fun as she’d been having, there was too much still on her mind. Too many things she wanted still to say; and there was little privacy for it in these crowds. “Maybe… just one more thing, and we’ll call it a night?” He nodded. “How about… the gondola? I think they’re doing fireworks soon. It would be nice to see them from there.”

“One more thing,” he agreed.

To their surprise, there was no line, and soon enough the door was shut behind them, and the gondola began to sail out of the station. Cloud felt a sudden jolt of claustrophobia; he calmed himself by focusing on Tifa, peering out of the window with all the delight of an innocent.

“How pretty,” she sighed, as she gazed at the sights rolling by.

“I agree,” he told her, but as she turned to him and realized it wasn’t the Gold Saucer he was looking at – her eyes grew wide, and she dipped her head shyly.

Slightly embarrassed, Tifa forced herself to lift her head back up; though she had a hard time looking him in the face, her eyes involuntarily drifting towards the outside and back again. Why was she feeling this way? This was _Cloud_ , after all. She’d known him her whole life. But the immensity of what was between them, here, in this small wood cabin, was getting overwhelming.

No. This was her chance. Was this the right time? “Timing is everything…” she half whispered.

“What was that?” Cloud asked; but she just shook her head before responding.

“Cloud?” she forced herself to begin. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say…”

“Oh?” he asked, expressionless; but he leaned just a shade in forward.

“It’s… kind of sad that this night has to end.” She took a deep breath. “I mean, it’s not a lot of time we’ve had to just enjoy ourselves, right? Even back in Midgar…” She’d been joyful when she’d found him, but he’d been so sick, and just as he’d gotten better, AVALANCHE had attacked the reactor and the plate had fallen and everything had just rushed forward from there… “We’ve been friends for such a long time… it’s hard sometimes…” She was rambling.

“Tifa.” It was only the one word, but as he reached out to cup her chin in his hand, finger and thumb caressing the side of her face, she knew it was the only word he needed to say.

Cloud just wanted to stay in that moment forever. He’d doubted earlier, but… why? Of course he loved her… why couldn’t he bring himself to say it? Now was the perfect moment, just the two of them here, alone, as if there was no one else in the world.

But the words just wouldn’t come out.

Cloud was being so silent, one might think him indifferent, but Tifa was becoming attuned to his subtle undercurrents; in fact, she knew she had his full attention. _It’s just three little words,_ she told herself. _Go ahead and say it._ She wanted to move forward to be more than the friends they’d been as children; she’d had enough time to be sure she was falling in love with the man he had become, not just the fantasy that had sustained her for so many years. _It’s not time yet,_ crept in another small voice, and she wasn’t sure which one to listen to.

It could only make things better… right? He was so close; she wanted him closer. Wanted him to kiss her, feel his arms around her, she could still feel that embrace in the garden, wanting it again, regretful she’d told him to let go.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Gathering her confidence, she looked him full in the face, those luminescent aqua eyes holding her now; where before she couldn’t meet them, now she couldn’t tear herself away. “Cloud,” she began, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, “I…”

Explosions outside startled her, and she jumped backwards instinctively, realizing too late she’d broken the contact. Outside, the fireworks had begun, so close the noise filled the cabin; the words died on her tongue, had she even been able to shout over the din. Regretfully, she turned to face outside, Cloud following her example, the two wordlessly watching the display outside.

It was beautiful, Cloud had to admit; colored stars to replace the night sky eclipsed by the Gold Saucer’s lights, reflecting sparkles on the golden domes themselves. But he couldn’t help compare as he turned to saw the lights reflected in Tifa’s eyes. He knew he could never doubt her value, worth far more than gold.

How could one put a price on an _everything?_

Sharing this new memory together, he felt like a weight had been lifted. Maybe it had, in more ways than one – his back practically ached with the feeling of _not_ having the sword bearing down on it. Her eyes, indefinable, focused, and he wanted to lose himself in their burnished depths. His mouth ran dry with indecision. He suddenly, irrationally, wanted to just grab her and kiss her. Just do it. Forget anything and everything else.

Minutes drew out, both of them unable to move neither forward nor back. Finally the grand finale showered the sky with color, but as the last sparks began to fade, Tifa felt her courage leaving with them. Cloud’s eyes were waiting, anticipating, asking her to finish the sentence, but somehow… she just couldn’t. The moment had slipped away, and fear had returned, the eternally uninvited guest. Her eyes denied his request; so many moments where they’d get just a little closer, yet couldn’t seem to cross.

It was too late; she felt the gondola screeching into the station. As Cloud stood, patiently waiting for her to exit first, she berated herself. It was her own fault she couldn’t confront her doubts, couldn’t see through them to the man Cloud really as.

And he placed one hand on her back, gently steering her off, she thought sadly that would have to be enough for now.

*******

Aerith ambled back along the corridors to her room, pensive, not even realizing she’d reached her destination until she was right in front of it. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she stopped to ask herself, _what was she doing?_ Everyone else was likely out and about, same as Cloud and Tifa. She was wide awake, she was dressed, and she might not have another chance to enjoy herself for quite some time.

Decision made, she wheeled the other direction, exiting the hotel outside into a cacophony of noise, light, and celebration. As she merged into the crowds, she couldn’t help but feel swept up in the energy, her woes starting to feel thankfully far behind.

The first group she found was Cid, Barret, and Yuffie, enthusiastically playing the games in Wonder Square. Yuffie was working some kind of slot machine while Barret cheered on; Cid stood off to the side, puffing away on a cigarette right under a prominently displayed “No Smoking” sign.

“Hi, Aerith,” greeted Yuffie, right before the machine _ka-chinged_ , pouring out GP into the tray below. “Score!!! I win!”

“Hi everyone,” Aerith greeted them warmly. “Where’s the rest?”

“Vincent and Red decided to ride the rollercoaster a few more times and then go to the chocobo races,” Barret explained. _Red? Vincent?_ She tried to picture it. “Cait Sith was powered down at the hotel last I saw. Seen Cloud and Tifa anywhere?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around her somewhere.” Aerith waved one arm breezily. “So, mind if I join you?”

Barret wrapped his flesh arm around her warmly; Aerith wondered if he hugged Marlene with the same affection. She hoped so. “You know you’re always welcome.” Cid and Yuffie followed on with their own animated replies, and as Yuffie scooped up her loot, they talked and laughed amongst themselves as they turned to explore the amusement park further.

The now-larger group ambled through the paths and attractions, but they never ran into Cloud and Tifa. Aerith was glad. She didn’t know where the two of them had headed off too – _or if they even left the hotel,_ she thought with a smirk – but either way, tonight, she wanted them to have the time to themselves. Those moments were few and far between on this journey. She herself was grateful to be with the others, not to be alone back in her room; she was glad she’d made the decision to come out tonight.

That is, until they entered the central station.

Exits to the various arenas surrounded them, but in the center, looking around furtively, was Cait Sith – perched on its giant moogle, and most definitely awake. It held something round close to its furry body.

“Wait… what’s HE doing here?” Yuffie asked.

Before anyone could answer, the animated cat had hopped down one of the exits from the station, and popping out of another, Vincent and Red appeared, giving chase. “Stop him! He took the Keystone!” Vincent shouted behind them, before he and Red too disappeared.

The others looked at each other in shock and surprise. “Split up,” Barret ordered, and with a nod from the others, he partnered with Aerith and Cid with Yuffie, each choosing a different way out to corner the thief.

It just so happened that Barret and Aerith chose the tube to Round Square; and as they entered, looking around hastily, there was no Cait Sith to be seen. They had, however, arrived just in time to see Cloud and Tifa exiting the gondola ride; Aerith didn’t have a moment to wonder how they’d enjoyed it. “Over here, guys!” she shouted.

Cloud and Tifa quickly caught up, twin looks of worry. “What’s wrong?” Cloud asked.

“Cait Sith,” Aerith huffed out, now out of breath. “He took the Keystone. We’ve got to catch up with him!”

“We don’t know where he went,” Barret added. “We’ve got to just corner him in this place somewhere.” Cloud looked at Tifa, and they nodded in agreement; he suddenly wished he’d brought his sword with him after all.

They dove from tunnel to tunnel, sometimes catching a bare glimpse of their target, other times seeing the other members of their party, but Cait always seemed to elude their grasp. Finally, they burst out into the chocobo racing arena, just as Cid and Yuffie spilled out from the Event Square direction, and Vincent and Red from the Battle Arena, triangulating a trap around the traitor.

They hadn’t really realized how high up the golden saucer was until a helicopter approached, whipping up the winds, already potent at this elevation. It hovered above them, and Cait tossed the Keystone upwards, a familiar figure neatly catching it above.

Aerith couldn’t fail to recognize him. _Tseng_.

She found herself shouting, cursing him with words she rarely used, but she wanted to vent all her vitriol against him. “Why won’t you just leave us alone!” she cried; but if Tseng replied anything, she couldn’t hear as the helicopter flew away, carrying their treasure with it but leaving them with the spy in their midst uncovered.

Cloud berated himself for trusting so easily; he wished so badly he didn’t have to think poorly of anyone in his team. Aerith, Vincent, Barret – valuable members, all, and more than that, his friends. He was comforted by Tifa’s presence at his side. The one person he knew he could trust one hundred percent.

Angry voices, one atop each other – Cloud heard his own voice in there somewhere – berating, accusing. Under the surface, he was seething, thinking that Cait could somehow think they could go on as before. The feline bore it, nonplussed, finally raising one hand for silence. “Wait, wait… before this goes any further… there’s really something you could hear.”

Doubtful glances were cast on Cait from all sides, as the Mog waggled back and forth, and a crackling sound was heard as Cait tried to establish some sort of communications channel. The static gradually resolved itself, voices faintly heard in the background, until suddenly, clear as day, came a familiar childish voice –

“Papa? Tifa?”

“MARLENE!” Barret bellowed, shaking his fist, looking as if any moment he might pump the cat full of bullet holes, worry for his baby girl’s safety the only thing holding him back. Aerith’s heart sunk. Marlene was supposed to be safe with Elmyra. _Tseng promised!_ She found herself shouting the loudest of them all, over even Barret, even over Tifa crying out _Marlene, Marlene,_ both women full of fear for the little girl they both loved.

And Marlene heard. “Flower lady?” she heard her daughter’s voice; she wanted so desperately to cry. “It’s the flower lady!” The recognition hurt, hurt so badly…

“Who are you?!?” she demanded angrily. “Who is behind this? Why are you doing this? Tseng, you bastard!” she shouted to the empty sky above, the Turk far too long gone to hear her. It didn’t matter.

The cat shrugged nonchalantly; Aerith wanted to smack it off its Moogle mount. “I didn’t want to do this,” it said, apologetically almost, “but I have to stay with you. That was my assignment. They won’t be harmed – they just can’t leave for the moment. The Turks are guarding them.”

“I _knew_ there was something up with you,” Vincent muttered darkly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since the start. You’ve got Shinra’s touch all over you, so bad I can smell it.”

“Yeah, how do you think we’re going to trust you now?” Cloud added. “Fuck off.”

“Who _are_ you?!?” Tifa asked, but Cait just waved her off. “I can’t tell you. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I have to stay with you guys. But… I thought you were the enemy. Now… I think I’m changing my mind. I have to find out what you’re going to do next, but I _want_ to know, why? It doesn’t make sense.”

Barret was grim; he hadn’t lowered his gun. “Nothin’ a piece-of-shit Shinra spy would understand.”

The cat stared back at Barret, an unnerving mechanical glare. “It makes me question what Shinra’s about. You can understand _that_ at least, I think.” Barret _harrumphed_.

Cloud sighed. Time to play leader again. “Look, Barret,” he reasoned, “Shinra knows where we are and what we’re doing. But hopefully Sephiroth _doesn’t._ We still have that to count on. It doesn’t sound like Marlene is in actual danger. Let’s just keep going, and hopefully this will sort itself out, okay?” Barret glared, but lowered his arm. “I don’t know how this is going to work with a spy along either, but we’ll just have to deal with it.”

Tifa placed her hand gently on Cloud’s elbow, letting her warmth seep into his skin. “It’ll be okay, Barret,” she told him with no real guarantee it would be so. “Cloud’s right. We can only move forward.”

On Cloud’s other side, Aerith found herself nodding, though reluctantly. There was nothing to be done. Their goal was unchanged. Hopefully Cloud was up to the challenge, now more than ever. She looked with worry at Cloud, noticing out of the corner of her eye, Tifa looking at him with a mirrored expression.

Worried for Cloud; worried for Marlene. Tseng was _technically_ keeping his promise, not to reveal Marlene’s secret – she was safe, but still under the same “protection” that Aerith herself had enjoyed for so many years. Still under the thumb of the Turks, ultimately dependent on Tseng’s goodwill… had she truly escaped Shinra if her loved ones were still in danger from the company?

She suspected it would be so as long as Shinra continued to pursue the Promised Land; fool, she was, for thinking she could ever outrun her heritage. Sephiroth had merely distracted them for the moment; that would all change when they realized he was no Cetra, couldn’t lead them to their goal. And she feared that might be sooner rather than later. What was REALLY going to happen at the Temple of the Ancients? Would it be what any of them were expecting?

Cloud himself was sour. _A pleasant evening ruined._ He would have much rather continued spending time with Tifa, but it seemed their brief respite was cut short. Time to focus on tomorrow. He thought back to Aerith grilling him about the next day; she was probably right to be worried, especially now that things had gotten that much more complicated. Maybe she had some kind of Cetra sense for danger.

They were going after Sephiroth, they were going after Shinra. But hunting down either one of those fuckers helped the other. He wished he could step backwards and just let them take each other out. Behind him, he overheard Tifa fretting about Marlene, conversing with an equally worried Aerith. It reminded him they hardly had the luxury of standing to the sidelines; just as Cait had told them, they had to do what Shinra said.

Aerith hardly cared anymore, even though she knew she should – she needed to go to the Temple of the Ancients. That was her destiny. But really, she just wanted to know Marlene and her mother were safe. To achieve one… she had to do the other. Her path was set… and so was Cloud’s.

She needed Cloud’s help; she needed to protect Cloud. How could she do both?

She didn’t know.

She was only afraid.


End file.
